Suicide Doors
by The Brat Prince
Summary: Joe Lucas wanted a car with suicide doors. He wanted to live the rock star life. Nick just kept getting in the way. Something had to be done. Getting his baby brother a girlfriend was the key to freedom, or so Joe thought. Slash. Joe/Nick Incest. JONAS
1. If Everything Came True

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter One_

By: Jondy Macmillan

Disclaimer: I don't own JONAS. If I did…well…-drools-

A/N: This story is full of slash (gayness) and incest (sibling lovin' in the horizontal position). If you don't like that, you really shouldn't be reading. Like…please. Stop right now. 'Cause I don't want to scar you; I'm already going to hell for writing the dang thing (among many, many other things), so I don't need to send someone in for years of therapy if they haven't already come over to the dark side on their own. It also has bad words and drinking. Consider yourself warned. Pairings will be joick (Gives me warm fuzzies just thinkin' it) and Nick PLUS Some Girl. A girl from the series- I hate making up my own. I'm just not sure which one yet.

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Joe Lucas wanted a car with suicide doors.

He wanted to be like one of those boys on Entourage, with the drinking and the fucking, and the general don't-give-a-shit vibe. The way he figured, he deserved it. It was like, manifest destiny, dude.

He'd known since the minute he and his brothers stared down the JONAS trail that they would be rockstars.

Now that it had happened, of course he had expectations. Didn't every rockstar get buzzed in clubs with pretty girls hanging off each arm?

Yeah. Hell yeah.

Except, okay, there was a problem.

See, somewhere along the line, he'd promised to keep it real. Now that he was a high school senior, that promise was old news, shiny gift wrap around a brand spanking new present. Shiny gift wrap that needed to be discarded to reach his new dream of actually getting to enjoy the perks of stardom for a change.

He could get past his mom. That was easy. All he had to do was give her the biggest, roundest puppy dog eyes he could muster and she'd let him spend his nights on the town, no big. Or, if it came down to it, he could lie. He didn't like to lie, but not because of any moral compulsions. No, he didn't like to lie because despite his master-of-disguise status, the paparazzi were sneaky bastards and could catch him some serious shit.

Still, mom was manageable.

Dad was a total nonentity. He enjoyed living vicariously through his famous sons.

It came down to his brothers. Well, one brother, actually. Kevin was too busy chasing girls in that sweet, schoolboy way of his to notice that Joe wanted to go major league, and Frankie was too young to care.

Nick.

Nick was the problem.

Make that Problem with a capital P.

Joe wasn't sure when Nick had decided to take it upon himself to become protector and champion of Joe's virtue. The kid was so quiet, so full of gentle, ironic humor, that sometimes it seemed he was just part of the background.

Recently Nick had lost that invisibility cloak of his and it was driving Joe insane.

Well, Nick was of the opinion that Joe had been losing his head long before his baby brother's transformation, but that was a minor detail.

The thing about Nick playing guardian angel was that it happened to be Completely Obnoxious.

At first, before Joe realized that he wanted to live the superstar dream life, it was just little things. Like when Nick would force Joe to look both ways when he crossed the street, forgetting who exactly was older in this relationship. Or when Joe would try to talk to a girl and Nick would sidle up behind him, swinging an arm around Joe's shoulders awkwardly and murder all conversation where it stood. Mostly by bringing up Joe's table manners, or how long he spent in the bathroom; anything sure to gross the girl out.

Nick was excellent at retaining little facts for later blackmail. He'd just never been so hell bent on using the skill to kill Joe's social life in the past.

Joe did everything he could think of to deter Nick from butting into big brother's life. At first, he tried the easy route; talking. He gently told Nick that he was being a cock block and to get out the way. Not in those terms, of course; he didn't want to give little Nick a heart attack. Then, when that didn't make the kid back off, Joe tried having Kevin run interference. Well, Kevin had never been a good wingman, and that plan went kaput in point two seconds.

He even went so far as to try to find Nick a girlfriend. The best of them lasted a week and a half before Nick dismissed her as airheaded and frivolous. Joe was at his wit's end trying to think up new and interesting ways to keep Nick out of his private life.

When summer transitioned to autumn and Joe finally began his senior year, he started getting the ideas. These nagging ideas about how he should be out, partying, living it up. He'd be the first to admit it was Kevin who gave him cabin fever; Kevin, who had graduated that May, but couldn't go to college because it would interfere when they needed to go on tour. Kevin, who was virtually stuck at home twenty four seven, doing absolutely nothing with his life when he was a goddamned rock star.

Yeah. Joe wasn't going to let that happen to him. No way would he rot away in a firehouse in frickin' New Jersey when he could be out there, seeing the world. Seeing all those adoring fans WANT him.

His mom said wanderlust was a common affliction for teenaged Jerseyites. She might have been right, 'cause the rest of Kevin's graduating class had gotten the hell out of dodge.

See, Joe argued with his inner good boy. Everyone wanted to leave. New Yorkers came down on weekends in the summer and made jokes about the Garden State being a trash heap. Why are New Yorkers so depressed, they asked?

Because New Jersey's the light at the end of the tunnel. Badabing!

Jersey girls aren't trash. Trash gets picked up!

Fucking New Yorkers.

Still, at least they got to see the world, and not just on tour. In the City there were night clubs and electric lights and neon signs for bars that you never got IDed in. It was like paradise.

It was the one place Joe wasn't allowed to go. He tried, once, of course. He got in the car he'd bought with his own hard earned cash and driven to the train station. He donned a baseball hat and a hoodie on top of that, trying to be all inconspicuous as he made his way on the NJTransit train. He barely got to step foot in Penn Station before his stalker of a baby brother met him, The Big Man in tow like a good, Nick-fearing bodyguard should be.

"What are you doing here?" Joe demanded.

"Making sure you don't get killed," Nick raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, and damn if he didn't look scarier than The Big Man in all his bouncer-esque glory.

"I can take care of myself," Joe emphasized all the words slow and careful, because maybe Nick had just hit his head real bad and that was why he was having such a hard time with this understanding thing.

Nick just shook his head and pulled him right back onto a train. So much for that theory.

Finally, a month into school when all the leaves were changing, Joe decided he'd had it. He was the big brother. He wanted to do…well, what he wanted to do. Nick Lucas wasn't going to stop him from enjoying life. No way.

It was that night, watching TV with his legs stretched over Nick's lap that Joe formulated a new plan. After all, up until now, he hadn't realized how dire the situation was.

Up 'til now he hadn't seen Kevin in the kitchen, being forced by mom to make some kind of soufflé in a ruffled pink apron for lack of better things to do.

Joe shifted, and Nick's arms weighted down his legs as he found a comfier position sprawled across the couch. He watched his little brother's eyes, following the flickering nonsense on the TV screen. Hmm.

Maybe he'd gone the wrong way about that whole girlfriend thing. Maybe he just had to find the right kind of girl.

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A/N: Because I know someone will ask, suicide doors are the kind in the back that open…well, backwards. They're called suicide doors because while driving, the wind could force them open. Please review, because then I'll love you forever and ever, and maybe update with the next (longer) chapter. Plus you'll soothe my neurosis about posting outside my usual fandom.


	2. We Ain't Gonna Live Forever

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Two_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Still here? Not scared away? I have mad alerts, but no reviews; I figure that's all still a compliment. Right? No? Okay. I fail at being heterosexual in stories, so I apologize for the stunted scenes with Nick and Penny. And Kevin and Macy. And Joe and Stella. I can't wait to get to the good joick parts...Le sigh.

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"Dude, she's gorgeous. Just go ask her out already," Joe pushed Nick towards the girl by the water fountain.

"Joe," Nick protested, his voice razor sharp, but his brother was already urging him down the hall. If he hadn't known any better, Nick might have thought Joe was trying to get rid of him. He cast a suspicious glare towards his big brother, who was doing his best to appear innocent in his plaid uniform, before setting eyes on the prize.

Water glistening on her lips when she pulled back from the fountain, the girl didn't even notice Nick approaching.

The newest rumor around school was that she'd broken up with her boyfriend. Normally, girls breaking up with grade A douches didn't register on Joe's radar, but this was different.

This was Penny.

Since he'd first heard it from Stella that morning, Joe angled for Nick to go find out whether or not the gossip was true. It had been an impossible task; Nick was in the mood to dig in his heels and act as shy as humanly possible. Joe used every trick in the book to get him to finally approach the girl, and even now Nick was staggering towards her like a skittish colt. There was every possibility that he would bolt.

Joe crossed his fingers and hoped for his own sake that the kid could pull it together. Otherwise he was flat out of plans.

As far as plans went though, Joe was reasonably certain this one had to work.

Okay, so Nick hadn't gone for all the other girls he'd paraded in front of him, but hello- Penny. Nick had composed a song for her. That had to count for something, right? Right?

Right.

He watched Nick with a keen eye as the younger boy tapped Penny on the shoulder. She spun around, surprised, her mouth forming an 'o'. Joe couldn't hear what Nick said then, but it must have been funny, because Penny smiled and laughed a little. She was a nice girl. She had white thighs under that skirt of hers and pink sugar lips. No denying she was pretty. And Nick had fallen hard for her once before. It could happen again.

Then; freedom.

Joe was already daydreaming about the first bar on west fourth he'd hit; some place he'd heard college kids liked to go that wasn't nearly a-list enough to get him recognized. He had to test out this partying like a rockstar thing before he could move on to the big leagues, after all.

It kind of made him feel like a shallow jerk.

To tell the truth, manipulating Nick made him squeamish. But it wasn't like he hadn't done everything else he could. There were only so many different ways to tell a guy to back off before desperate measures had to be taken. So really, Nick had brought this on himself.

"What're you doing?" a familiar voice asked, causing Joe to jump half a mile in the air. Or only a foot, but it felt like a mile, damnit. Kevin, the sneaky bastard, sidled up beside him with an easy smile.

Kevin always had easy smiles; came from having an IQ of two.

So maybe it was higher than that. Joe was resentful because Kevin had stolen his breakfast burrito this morning and- wait.

"What are you doing is more like it!" Joe hissed, raking a hand through his thick, dark hair, all thoughts of Nick forgotten. He tried to block Kevin's body with his own, so that nobody at the school would notice his older brother who had already graduated loitering in the hallway.

There had to be rules against that.

"You forgot your lunch," Kevin shrugged, holding up a brown paper bag that looked suspiciously light. He caught Joe eyeing it and admitted, "I might have eaten it on the way here."

"You're going to get us in trouble! Do you have a visitor's pass?"

"Do I need one? I went to school here," Kevin pressed his lips together and scratched behind his ear, a nervous tic that screamed 'I did something wrong?'

"Went being the operative word, dude."

"I'm one third of JONAS. That has to count for something."

"Didn't mom give you the lecture on using fame to get your way?"

Kevin blinked, "I thought she meant not to get free tacos from the cute girl in that restaurant on Main Street."

"That too," Joe sighed, fighting the tension flooding his body, "Are you really that bored sitting at home?"

"You have no idea," Kevin's eyes bugged out, chocolate brown and wild, "I'm going insane!"

"Why don't you do something then? Go out. Go to a party! I know there's something bangin' going down in the city tonight."

His older brother frowned, "Dude. No. Mom would not approve. Do you even know what those kind of parties are like?"

He couldn't stop the insolent words from tumbling out of his mouth, "Yeah, awesome."

"Joe," Kevin warned, eyes narrowing, "I'm serious. I didn't know you were thinking about going to one of those."

Joe realized he'd made a misstep. Kevin was usually too distracted by his romantic life to even take notice of Joe's desires, and the last thing he needed was another brother on his tail like some kind of goofy bloodhound. Carefully he lied, "I'm not. I was just saying you should try it out."

"Not my scene lil' bro," Kevin replied airily, visibly relaxing, "Bad things go down in places like that. Drinking, and the girls…I like my girls a little more…"

Joe was thinking 'high school', and he knew he was right when Kevin's eyes landed on a perky brunette up the hall. The smile that lit his face might as well have lit up the whole school for how bright it was.

Only one person made Kevin beam like that, but it was obvious Kevin was trying to play it cool. He said in a casual voice, "Hey look, it's Macy."

Joe had to suppress a grin. Yeah, Kevin was fooling no one.

"You're right. Why don't you go say hi, Kev?"

His older brother's eyes narrowed again, suspicious, "I thought I was going to get you in trouble 'cause I don't have a pass."

Quick on his toes, Joe yelled, "Oh my god! Macy's got a bunny!"

Kevin's head snapped in the other direction, his feet already carrying him towards the girl in search of something small and cute and fluffy.

Leave it to his older brother's fascination with adorable animals to save Joe from an awkward conversation.

Anyway, from this distance it looked like Joe had done his brother a favor. Macy was delighted to see Kevin. She'd thrown her arms around his neck and was emitting high pitched shrieks that sounded like a constant stream of 'JONASJONASJONAS'.

All in a day's work.

Joe smirked and turned back to the problem at hand, but Nick and Penny were nowhere to be seen. He glanced left, right, and even behind him, checking to see where his little brother had gotten off to. When he still couldn't find him, he took it as a good sign. Maybe Nick and Penny had decided to go somewhere more private. Maybe they were making out in a closet right now, and all Joe's problems were solved.

Hey, it was feasible.

Joe sat through the rest of the day's classes on the edge of his seat, waiting for news. He'd never been so invested in his brother's love life before, but his brother's love life had never so directly affected his future. Joe was convinced that if Nick didn't end up dating Penny, there was a major possibility that he'd be following Joe everywhere he went until they ended up in an old folks' home together. Joe was all for family bonding, but it was just getting to be Too Much.

Nick was nowhere to be found in the halls after school that day. It left Joe almost feeling melancholy; he didn't know how to cope without the presence of his always-there brother.

Still, that was the goal, right?

Shaken from his usual routine of being carefully guarded, Joe hit Stella up for a pizza date. They went to her house and watched movies and ate pepperoni and cheese until their stomachs felt close to bursting. Stella was familiar; smiles and laughs and the comfort of a best friend. Sometimes Joe wondered what it would be like to kiss her, but those thoughts were fleeting and left him an icky residue that settled inside his chest, like he was thinking illicit thoughts about a relative.

He told Stella about setting Nick up. She pursed her lips and asked, "Won't you get lonely now? You and Nick spent like, the whole summer together."

She crossed her arms and tilted her head and gave him this half-mean glare, because he had in fact spent practically the whole summer with Nick instead of her. They'd had hose fights on the brilliant green grass and escaped towards the shore for parasailing and speed racing on wave runners. Sometimes Kevin had been there, but more often than not he was commiserating with his graduate friends in a last hurrah before they all abandoned him for college.

The boys laid on the beach among the visiting New Yorkers, Pennsylvanians, and Floridians; the locals called people like that Bennys, and hated them. They'd even made signs that Joe and Nick had glimpsed on a turnpike overpass. Bennys go home, it screamed with an exclamation point. Joe didn't mind all the visitors; they made him and his brother invisible. Sometimes they'd walk up to the ocean-side stands and buy hot dogs and nachos and cheese fries, and Joe would bury Nick in the sand and feed him fries because his hands were pinned down.

Once or twice they even slipped off to a concert at PNC Bank Arts Center. Hats and sunglasses and jackets disguised them from the crowd, and anyway, the kind of concerts they'd gone to didn't have the same fan bases as JONAS. The anonymity in the music world bugged Joe sometimes, but he could tell Nick loved it. The twist of his lips when he swayed to melodies so unlike their own almost resembled a smile.

"Jealous?" Joe countered, thinking of endless blue skies and the smell of suntan lotion; of his summer with his little brother before he wanted freedom and parties and things Nick would never want.

"As if," Stella squealed, picking up another piece of pizza and staring at it like some sort of interesting science experiment. Joe could almost see the thought bubble above her head like a cartoon; if I put this in my mouth, will I still be able to fit into so-and-so's fall collection skinny jeans?

"Anyway, Nick needs to get a life that doesn't involve following me around all the time," Joe said, picking up the conversation because Stella's mouth was now full.

She swallowed and blinked, "He's your little brother, Joe. He idolizes you. You should enjoy it; it's not going to last forever."

"I'm not disowning him, Stella. I'm just…encouraging him to live a little."

"So once Nick is otherwise occupied, what are you going to do?"

Act like a real rockstar, Joe wanted to say. Instead he shrugged and replied, "Have a little 'me' time."

Stella didn't buy that, but she was too busy watching the rest of the movie to argue.

When Joe got home around nine, Nick was in the kitchen making instant ramen. Their dad, Frankie, and Kevin were working on merchandising for the band, and their mom was on a business meeting out of town. It was one of those slow nights where everyone had to fend for themselves with food. Nick had opted for the least healthy option, but if college kids could live off the stuff, why couldn't he?

"How'd things go with Penny?"

Nick set his Styrofoam cup full of noodles on the counter, careful not to spill any hot water. His eyes, dark and piercing, flickered up and he said, "We're going to go out. Friday."

"Dude, that's awesome!" Joe resisted his urge to pump a fist in the air and instead punched Nick lightly in the arm, "You must be ecstatic."

"Oh, I am. Can't you tell?" Nick deadpanned with a straight face.

Joe grinned, used to his brother's sense of humor, "Right. Your happiness is overwhelming."

"Penny's great," Nick bit his lip, nervously shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, "I still don't get why you were so eager for me to talk to her."

"What can I say? I'm an excellent big brother. Excellent," Joe emphasized the word, "I mean, I knew you wanted another shot at the girl. You wrote her that song; hmm, how'd it go again?"

Nick's glare was lethal, "Gee, I don't know. You sang it to Stella last year for your stupid friend-a-versary. How do you think it went?"

Joe was surprised at how vehement the statement was, "Whoa there. It was a joke, Nick. No need to jump down my throat."

"I wasn't. I mean…er- sorry," his little brother sighed and removed his hands from his pockets, cradling the cup of noodles to his chest, "Tense week, I guess."

"You okay?" Joe asked, concerned. Even if he wanted him to back the hell off, Nick was still his baby brother.

Nick's eyes darkened with something Joe didn't recognize. Then he shook his head and said, "Yeah, fine. I was going to go watch TV. Wanna come?"

"Nah. Stella and I just finished a movie. I got to get a move on some homework."

That didn't go over well.

"Joe, you don't do homework."

"Hey! I do too."

"Not until the morning it's due."

"Point taken. I'm trying to finish senior year with a bang, okay?" Joe lied through his teeth. In truth, he wanted to check out party pics on his laptop, sent by a movie star friend, and dream about the day he could actually show up at one of them.

It was a more interesting way to pass the time than physics.

Nick's stare was long and hard, but finally he replied in a quiet voice, "Okay."

Joe prayed that Nick's date with Penny would be successful. He didn't know how much longer he could keep lying.

"Okay," he echoed, feeling hollow inside.

He hated deceit, and he hated the way Nick's lips twisted as he left the kitchen. It was almost like- no, it was- a frown.

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A/N: This chapter killed me. Killed me, man. I hate setting up stories, but to get to the fun joick, I have to do the awkward beginning, and it's definitely awkward. You know what would inspire me? Reviews. So do it. C'mon. I know you want to. Pretty please?


	3. You're A Party Boy, You Should Like Me

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Three_

By: Jondy Macmillan

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Joe didn't believe in miracles. People promised them too often for them to be real things. The news offered miracle cures to diseases; ones discovered in exotic locales, like the Himalayas. The internet claimed that he could lose up to sixty pounds on this miracle diet. Infomercials told him he could increase his penis size with miracle pills.

Miracles weren't really miracles; they were fucking gimmicks.

But it seemed to him Friday night, the first Nick-free Friday he'd had in months, was kind of a miracle. Or at least, it _promised_ to be. Joe hadn't been so psyched for a day to come since their last tour began, and he left for school that morning feeling good. No, better than good.

Amazing.

"What's with the shit-eating grin?" Stella asked him at lunch, "You look like you just snuck into the girls' locker room and got away with it."

"I," he announced, spreading his arms, "Am having an excellent day."

Stella rolled her eyes and muttered, "You're a rock god. You always have excellent days."

Joe frowned, "True. But this one's more excellent than most."

"Why is that?"

"Nick's date's tonight."

"The infamous date. Ah," Stella grinned, "I heard Nick's been talking about nothing else all week. Must be really pissing you off."

Well, it was true that Nick couldn't stop telling him about Penny. And maybe it had been a little annoying to hear his little brother go on and on about the girl with the angel's smile or some shit, muttering half formed song lyrics and crap poetry; but anyone would be annoyed if they heard Nick wax poetic about the same subject for hours on end.

Totally normal.

Stella didn't buy his half-smile and shrug, asking shrewdly, "Not lonely yet?"

"How could I ever be lonely when I've got you?" Joe replied, poking her in the side.

Stella giggled and squirmed away on the cafeteria bench. Joe took that as incentive to keep doing it, even as Stella laughed and shrieked, "Stop it! I'm serious, Joe!"

Joe didn't stop. Not until Stella accidentally spilled half her orange soda on his pants. Oops. She was way too ticklish for her own good.

Oh well.

He ended up changing into his gym shorts for the rest of school, anticipating his brother's reaction at the end of classes. Nick would definitely mock him for this. He always did when Joe wore shorts, telling Joe he had chicken legs and knobby knees.

Sometimes Joe missed having Kevin around as a buffer, with his dopey jokes and his silly way of looking at the world. He was such an easy target, and took most of the heat off Joe ninety percent of the time. But no, he had to be all smart and graduate.

Joe scoffed at the word in his head. What good was a high school diploma to a rockstar?

Okay, maybe education was good and all, and the members of JONAS were really trying to be good role models in the media, so graduating would come in handy for that. Still, it wasn't like graduating would do him any good personally.

Public image was just that; a disguise. Just another mask in Joe's huge repertoire. He organized it somewhere between 'good big brother' and 'innocent son'.

He was anticipating Nick's reaction so much that by the time the last bell rang he'd prepared a whole array of witty comebacks about how shorts made his legs look vaguely like a supermodel's, if you squinted. Except, after school, he waited and waited for Nick to no avail.

When the younger boy didn't show up, Joe was left wanting. Where the hell was Nick? His date wasn't until seven. Had he and Penny snuck off somewhere? The idea that Nick had ditched Joe for Penny didn't sit quite right, but Joe dismissed it.

Shouldering his bag, he began to trudge to his car, the only indulgence he'd been allowed for his eighteenth birthday. It was flashy, beautiful, and a total reflection of its driver, in Joe's immodest opinion.

Nick was missing out on a great ride.

Joe expected his little brother to be home by five, at least, so he could do that whole flurrying around and checking his hair thing he always did before dates. Joe had already pinned down all the different ways he would make fun of Nick in retaliation for his baby brother's missing out on a prime mocking opportunity earlier that day.

Instead Joe was left with Kevin and Frankie, who had decided to have a rousing Xbox tournament. The squealing tires and crappy music emanating from the game gave Joe a headache, but it wasn't like he could retreat to his room. Not when he shared the whole stupid place with his brothers. Seriously, wasn't privacy crucial to a rockstar's life?

He resolved to talk to his father, who might have been kind of an airhead, but at least was sympathetic to the needs and desires that went in to making his sons' millions of billions of dollars.

"Joe, dude, could you like _stop_ pacing? It's distracting," Kevin told him, just as Frankie won the game for the eighteenth time. Joe seriously doubted his movement was distracting Kevin enough that he got beat by a kid whose age wasn't even double digits yet, but Kevin got kind of touchy when someone insulted his gaming prowess. Joe just nodded and fled to the kitchen, figuring he might be able to find some peace and quiet there; and maybe wait for Nick to arrive so the kid could be greeted by Joe's spectacular jokes.

The clock was ticking towards the seventh hour more quickly than clocks should have any right to move, but still no Nick. Waiting was starting to wear thin as a fun way to spend a Friday night. Finally, Joe fished his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in Nick's number.

Nick picked up on the third ring, his voice lazy and happy, "Joe? What's up?"

"Nothing," Joe muttered back, "I just- when are you coming home? Don't you have a date tonight to get ready for?"

"Yeah, dude. I'm on it already," Nick laughed, and Joe could imagine his perplexed expression. He was wondering why Joe was calling him; no, checking in on him. It was kind of out-of-character, and the thought made Joe's cheeks heat. He was acting like their mom.

"Oh. I was just-er, wondering," Joe replied quickly, and in the background of the phone he could hear Penny inquiring what was going on. Her voice was _really _annoying. Joe clicked his cell shut, feeling like a loser.

Wasn't it Nick's job to track Joe's every move? Not vice versa? The entire thing left a bad taste in Joe's mouth.

Then it dawned on him. Friday night, and no Nick to be seen.

Joe ran upstairs to grab his keys. Yeah, he was going to the city.

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A/N: Aww, reviewers! Yay. I'm so excited that this thing's gotten reviews, so thanks to all you who did so! I also want to thank you people who are favoriting/alerting, just because seeing that little email in my mailbox makes me happy and lets me know people are reading. So. Yes. Keep up the good job, guys!


	4. By The Way, Your Hands Were Shaking

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Four_

By: Jondy Macmillan

* * *

Okay, going to the city had seemed like a better idea when he hadn't been sitting in three hours worth of traffic at the Lincoln Tunnel, but hey, it would be worth it in the end. He was positive. Joe had picked out the perfect ensemble from the Stellavator, hoping it was appropriate enough that he didn't look like part of the bridge-and-tunnel crowd; even though that was precisely what he was.

When he finally found a space off Bleeker, Joe spent about twenty minutes embarrassing himself trying to parallel park. He had the Jersey plates, and all the natives watched and laughed. At least, that's what Joe thought, frustrated as hell, trying to squeeze between two cars that might as well have been condemned from the start. He hit the bumper on one, denting the license plate. Joe considered leaving a note, but thought better of it. He hadn't actually made any scratches, after all.

The bar he'd carefully researched- like a huge dork- was pirate themed. Well, at least the name was pirate themed. Inside the only things remotely nautical were the fish nets hanging on the front of the bar. And maybe, if you squinted, the way the light up beer pong tables glowed eerily blue, making the whole place look like a fish tank. They were pretty cool though; those tables. They made Joe wish he had someone to play pong with. There were slots for each plastic cup provided by the bar with blue lights, and a twenty five cent dispenser of balls. The tables were long and slim and nothing like the wooden ones Joe had seen in college movies or the plastic crap his high school buddies occasionally used. No, these things were high tech.

Joe felt his excitement kick up a notch.

The bar was cool too. Line after line of bottles filled with things that looked like maple syrup and electric blue and red highlighter fluid, and maybe some clearish stuff glowed enticingly at him. There were names on the labels he recognized, like Grey Goose, Southern Comfort, and Jack Daniels. There were names he didn't, like Alize, Hypnotq, and Absinthe. It was like a museum, for liquor.

And awesome.

Joe didn't have to slip his fake ID to the bartender; the bouncer had already scrutinized it every which way. She was bouncy and blonde, and barely made the time to glance up at him. He ordered a whiskey, because it sounded cool.

Black label, Jim Beam, because getting the best was even cooler.

He could barely distinguish voices from the crowd; the place was that loud. There were college students from NYU whooping over their beer pong games, chatting excitedly about things that had nothing to do with Joe's world, and downing shots like pros.

He wanted to try that too.

Joe ordered three shots of tequila, and was kind of shocked when they rang up to twenty one dollars. It wasn't like he didn't have the money, but he wondered how anyone else afforded it. Seven dollars for fucking shots?

The price stopped mattering after he downed them.

One, two, three and a sickly sweet burn.

It was settling deep in his belly when he heard the voice, "Oh my god! You're in JONAS!"

Joe whirled around on his barstool, shocked. Standing behind him was a girl, dressed in tight jeans and a shirt that might as well have been a bikini for all the strategically placed material it had. She was tall, overly made up, and at least six years out of their normal age range.

JONAS played for teenagers, not girls in their early twenties.

The girl seemed to notice his confusion, because she said, "This is so embarrassing; I'm twenty three, and way too old to be listening to your shit. But shit, man, don't tell anybody- I love you! Like, L. O. V. E."

"Uh. Thanks, I guess," Joe replied, trying to find his professional persona and coming up lacking. Those three shots were affecting him way quicker than he'd thought they would.

"You know they have a stage and mic over there, right? And it's karaoke night!" she smiled hopefully, tossing her hair and trying to look seductive, with her pink frosting lips, "You should sing something!"

"Oh. Well…" Joe trailed off. He didn't know what else to say. If he sang at this college bar, would anyone else recognize him, like this girl? Would they take pictures?

Pictures Nick would see?

"Normally, I wouldn't do this," she shrugged her shoulders and inserted a shrill, happy giggle, "I'm really shy."

Just as Joe was wondering what lowered her inhibitions, she leaned in close. Real close. And oh.

"I'm drunk," she confided, her breath stinking like a brewery.

"What are you doing?" A new voice broke in, and Joe saw another girl. He winced, wondering if this one knew who he was too.

She was short, with huge breasts, and she was glaring at her considerably taller friend.

"Dude! I found Joe."

When her friend looked at her blankly, she added in a hiss, "Of JONAS!"

The short girl crossed her arms and drawled, "I've told you this before, but you are a seriously disturbed individual."

"I am not!" Joe's new, overly enthusiastic fan protested.

"He's like, way younger than you," the smaller girl glanced at him up and down, "He's a baby."

Joe frowned. They were acting like he wasn't even there.

"I know that," the tall girl blushed, and turned to him, "Ignore her."

Joe was planning on doing that anyway. To both of them.

Then the girl tacked on, "Sing. Please?"

"I guess," Joe shifted uncomfortably. He did kind of feel like singing, but it would be weird without his brothers. The girl giggled and hooted in celebration, and rushed him towards the karaoke machine, flouncing beside him. While they were waiting in line- funny how Joe hadn't noticed all the people singing off key before, although some of them were pretty good- she asked if she could take a picture with him. Joe nodded, feeling better by the minute. Alcohol was warming his insides, making him feel less and less like this was a bad idea.

He supposed that was why they called it liquid courage.

The girl pressed up against his side and pulled out her phone. It took like, five tries, and the end result was still slightly dark, but she seemed satisfied. However, she didn't detach herself from his arm, and he could feel the way her body pressed into him.

It brought his misgivings back full force. This girl, she wanted to kiss him. He could tell. And she was pretty enough, and there, even if she wasn't exactly his type, but…he wasn't interested.

Why wasn't he interested? Wasn't making out with random girls what rockstars did?

While he was considering it, the tall girl pulled him over to a beer pong table that had just freed up, "Dude, I can't believe I'm going to play beer pong with one third of JONAS."

Joe was kind of annoyed at the girl. He did in fact have a name that wasn't one third of anything.

She called her friend over, leaving him without a partner. He raked a hand through his hair and was about to excuse himself altogether when a guy came over. He was on the smaller side; had a skinny frame and long fingers, like a piano player.

They made him think of Nick.

In a soft voice the guy inquired if he could play, and before Joe could say a word the tall girl inserted herself into the situation, agreeing. She got two pitchers of beer, pouring considerably more into the cups than Joe would have thought advisable. Then she and Joe did an eye to eye shoot.

He scored, of course. He was pretty coordinated.

It was kind of required for all those stunts he did on stage.

His partner was eyeing him like he was some sort of French pastry, but Joe didn't think anything of it until halfway through the game when the small guy put his hand on Joe's back.

The touchy-feely stuff normally would have sent all his sensors screaming. Joe was feeling pretty good though, so all he thought was that it was a little weird. It seemed to give the small guy the idea that he could touch Joe even more.

Joe decided it was better to focus on the situation at hand than be bothered telling him to stop. The two girls were decent at the game, and both teams were tied. There were about four cups left; shining blue and sloshing with amber liquid.

It was Joe's turn to throw. The tall girl and her friend were trying everything to defend, shaking their hips back and forth and revealing more cleavage than was entirely tasteful. The pale flashes of their flesh shone like the underbelly of a fish. It was sickening, but he couldn't figure out why.

He wondered how Nick's date was going.

He also missed the shot.

It was serendipitous as hell that the second Joe's rather handsy friend and teammate scored the winning dunk ten minutes later, Joe was called up for karaoke. He was getting increasingly frustrated with the game, and the roaming fingers, but didn't want to sound like a pussy. Karaoke saved him the trouble.

He hadn't known what to sing, but he knew he didn't want to sing a JONAS song. That would have been dishonoring his brothers. His brothers who definitely wouldn't like it if they knew he was here.

Then again, maybe they didn't care. Kevin was probably playing video games still.

And Nick…well, Nick was on his date. His dumb date, with stupid Penny. Joe wasn't feeling too generous towards her right now. Seriously, why did she have to have such shiny hair, and pretty eyes?

Joe's hair was shiny.

Wait, what was he doing? Why wasn't he enjoying this? He was in a real bar, in the middle of the city. Nick being on a date was good, because that meant he couldn't be here with the Big Man and his patented presidential disapproving looks.

This was a _good _thing.

Joe was about to sing. To a bar. Drunk, with bloodshot eyes. Like a real rockstar. There was a girl who was getting prettier by the minute staring at him adoringly, like he was a fucking king.

He was a fucking king!

"Whoa, there, Danger," Joe whispered to himself as he tripped up the steps of the makeshift stage. He wasn't sure if he was saying his own nickname or telling himself to beware.

Everything in the bar was shifting, swirling, tilting. The colors were softer, blurred.

When he sang, his voice was amazing.

Better than he'd ever sounded.

Everyone was looking at him, awed by how raw, how totally hypnotic he was. People were dancing. The tall girl looked like she might cry. The short girl, okay, maybe she wasn't paying attention. Handsy Guy looked like he wanted to devour Joe there on stage, and that was scary, but not as scary as it might have been a few minutes ago.

In fact, he almost looked more attractive than Tall Girl.

Joe didn't question it, his eyes flickering over the lines on the karaoke screen.

Towards the end of the song he thought maybe he didn't sound as good as he'd first thought. Logically, Joe told himself his voice sounded even worse than usual. It was scratchy from all the alcohol he'd downed and he hadn't gotten a chance to warm up his voice.

Plus the stage was too small to do any tricks on, even though Joe tried.

But people still clapped when he finished. Tall Girl still threw her arms around his neck and told him that he was 'in-fucking-credible'.

Then she ditched him for a smoke, but still.

Joe managed to avoid Handsy Guy and his increasing advances in favor of getting another drink. The blonde bartender seemed considerably more interested in what he wanted now that she'd seen him sing. And that he'd given her outrageous tips, but that was another story entirely.

He was midway through asking for another black label when he felt his pocket vibrate.

It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts and figure out that his pants were not actually made with built in vibration. When the realization really set in, he fished his phone out and glanced at the display.

It was Nick.

Joe's heart stopped cold. He had no idea what time it was, but if he had to wager a guess, it was probably well past one in the morning.

He'd told his parents he was going to a party in the city. It had taken a little wheedling, but he'd been vague, alluding to some band-related thing, and he'd promised to behave.

Really, except for the behaving part, he hadn't really lied; singing karaoke was kind of band-related.

It involved vocal chords and everything.

Nick wouldn't buy that excuse though, no way. He knew about every single party JONAS had been invited too, and he would know for sure there wasn't one tonight.

Joe raced outside the bar, barely sparing a glance at the bouncer. He found Tall Girl and her short friend there, cigarettes dangling between their lips and clutching something that resembled falafel in their hands.

Tall Girl looked like she was about to squeal something, but Joe held a finger to his lips and surprisingly, her mouth snapped shut and she nodded.

When Joe picked up, his voice was too husky as he said, "Um, hi."

"Joe? What's that noise?" Nick asked. A group of girls were passing by, screaming something loud and unintelligible.

"Er-nothing. Why? What's up?"

"I was just wondering where you were. Wanted to tell you about my date," Nick sounded like he was glowing. It made Joe's stomach turn.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm-" Joe floundered for a second, fighting the instinct to tell Nick exactly where he was, "I'm at Stella's. We're just finished up a project…"

Nick hummed, "Alright then. I'll tell you about it tomorrow, I guess."

Then he hung up.

He fucking hung up.

Joe stared at his phone, dumbfounded.

What had just happened?

Nick never hung up. Nick always nagged him with his where-are-you's and his what-are-you-doing's. No way would he just let the suspicious screams of 'party naked' coming from that rather loud group of girls go unquestioned. No frickin' way.

Something sick rose in Joe's mouth.

Maybe something was _wrong_. That had to be it.

Maybe Nick had hung up because he had to.

Maybe he'd been kidnapped by Somalian pirates when he and Penny had gone to the shore for their date.

Maybe he was being held captive, and Joe was supposed to sense Nick's peril with his brother-instincts.

No, that was something Kevin would say, not him. Joe was far drunker than he'd first thought.

But there was still reason for concern. Joe shook his head, trying to think clearly. Maybe Nick's date hadn't gone well, and Nick was trying to mask his pain over the phone so Joe didn't run home from Stella's. He knew how seriously Joe and Stella took their friendship.

Yeah. That made sense.

Joe ran past Tall Girl and Short Girl without even a goodbye. He jumped in his car, fumbled with his keys, and did what could possibly be construed as the worst role model-ish thing ever.

He drove all the way back to Jersey, buzzed out of his brain.

It seemed like an excellent idea at the time.

Joe must have been blessed by the driving deities, because he didn't get pulled over.

A DUI would have done wonders for that public image of his.

Not.

By the time he got home, he was frantic. Ten thousand scenarios had run through his head about Nick's heartache. He'd come up with hundreds of ways to comfort his brother.

So when there were no lights on waiting for him, Joe was a little confused. He'd expected Nick to be in the kitchen, intent on pouring his heart out to Big Brother the second Joe stepped foot inside.

Joe reasoned that he must have been waiting up in their room. He could picture Nick in his mind's eye, sitting on his bed with his little reading lamp, a book cradled half-heartedly in his lap, partly scribbled hateful song lyrics about the girl-who'd-failed-to-nourish-their-blossoming-romance strewn about.

Except when he got upstairs, it was dark.

He made his way over to Nick's bed, his pulse thrumming inside his veins so hard he could physically feel it.

Joe peered down at his baby brother, who was decidedly fast asleep.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be.

Joe's stomach turned.

He barely made it to the bathroom before he started puking.

* * *

A/N: Ahem…I should have included more about the falafel place. Mamoun's…I love mamoun's. Gah. Next time. Anyway, thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter, and I hope you guys will review this one too! Pretty please with something yummy on top?


	5. Honey, That's What Takers Do

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Five_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: I really, really would have thought they'd get a JONAS section by now. Guys, go bug them with category suggestions. It's ridiculous that they're not making one. Just because the first names stayed the same (Hello, Hannah Montana?) and the band name is technically their real last name, doesn't mean the rest of the characters aren't entirely fictional. And even the Lucas boys are meant to be fictional. So ffn's argument that they're 'real life people' is unfounded and based on ignorance. (Sorry, I'm still reeling over the snarky reply they gave me when I made the category suggestion. I notice they didn't reply to my awesome logic that I presented in the face of their rude customer service though; bastards).

* * *

The morning following the disastrous party attempt, Joe slept in. It was rare that he got to do so, but they weren't on tour, there were no early morning interviews scheduled, and since Kevin had graduated he'd taken over a lot of the jobs that all three of them were once forced into, like dealing with their label every five seconds.

It had taken a lot to convince both their dad and Nick that Kevin was capable enough to represent JONAS alone every once in a while, but Joe had run a guerilla campaign for two months leading up to the graduation and three months following, and eventually both had caved. Actually, their dad had surrendered about two days in; it was Nick who'd been the real obstacle.

It helped that Kevin had a solid head for business, despite being abnormally silly when it came to everything else. Some would say that Joe had contradicted his own cries for freedom by coming to Kevin's aid. Joe would counter that having Kevin manage things left him with more free time and less worries that his steadily flowing source of income would ever fall through if he decided to play hooky once in a while. Kevin loved the band more than anybody.

Well, anybody other than Nick.

That's why he was kind of surprised to find Kevin doing absolutely nothing productive. His big brother's eyes were glued to some admittedly kickass CGI on the plasma screen, his fingers working over a controller, dressed in nothing but boxers and an open terrycloth robe.

Joe yawned. It was noon, yet it was still too early for this; watching his older sibling fall into a life of hermitic decay.

"God, Kev. Don't you ever want to do anything else?" Joe rolled his eyes and gestured towards the TV, "Go out. Be productive. Live in sin."

"I don't need to live in sin when I can live vicariously through your exploits," Kevin put down the controller and stared at him, accusing, "You went to a bar last night."

Joe shrugged his shoulders, like, so? Even if maybe inside he was shrieking 'how-did-he-know?'

"It was plastered all over the internet this morning. I won't be surprised if it makes the tabloids. You're not even eighteen yet, Joe."

"And your point is?"

"My point is it wouldn't kill you to take some responsibility. Be a role model for our fans. Grow up a little."

"And what? Play video games all day?" Joe's response was scathing. He might have felt guilty about making Kevin look like his little brother'd just run over his aardvark, but to be honest, his head was pounding out a baseline and he was still feeling sort of bitter about the whole coming home to a dark, barren house thing.

Come to think of it, where was Nick? He voiced the question to Kevin who glared at him and said in an offended voice, "I have no idea. Maybe he's trying to contain the PR disaster that is-you."

"Loosen up, Kev."

"You know what? I'm going to go to the park. Macy mentioned something about her neighborhood roller hockey game. Maybe she'll appreciate my wisdom."

"I appreciate your wisdom. I so listened that time you told me koalas were the cutest marsupials."

"You did not! You told Teen Weekly magazine that baby kangaroos are the most adorable thing ever," Kevin countered, scandalized.

"Oh. Right," Joe frowned, "Guess I don't appreciate your wisdom. You're right, you should go see Macy."

Kevin stalked off, but really, Joe didn't feel bad. He was doing the kid a favor. No way would he have mustered up the courage to go to Macy's hockey game all by his lonesome.

In fact, it was such a job well done that Joe treated himself to an extra portion of Crunchy Cats for breakfast.

* * *

Wherever Nick had gone, he stayed there until well past dinner. Their parents had gone out for a romantic night on the town, which Joe could only presume met they hadn't spotted the pictures Kevin was in a tizzy about. Kevin, too hadn't come back from the park. Joe hoped things were going well with Macy. If Kevin was going to be all boring all the time, having a wacky girlfriend could only improve on his mood.

Funny how Kevin dating Macy didn't bother Joe nearly as much as Nick and Penny. Not that the idea of them dating bothered him. He'd suggested it. So it wouldn't bug him.

No.

Not at all.

Anyway, the 'rents were gone, Kevin was out, and Frankie was at a friend's. No sign of the not-so-little, more obnoxious little brother, but Joe was steadfastly not worrying about him. Instead, he decided to carry on a Lucas home alone family tradition; raid the fridge and cabinets for the most unhealthy foods he could find with the easiest microwave instructions and then plop down in front of his laptop to look at pictures of…well, himself.

There were on a gossip site, but hadn't spread. Mainly because the pictures were so blurry that it was extremely hard to tell if Joe Lucas was really the guy in them.

The confusing bit was that they weren't the pictures Tall Girl had taken; at least not the ones they'd done while in line for the karaoke sign up. No, these pictures were of the beer pong game. Joe's face looked fuzzy and corpse-like in the blue lights of the table. And Handsy Guy was like, all over him. Joe had been drunk, but he didn't remember posing for anything like this, with Handsy's body pressed up alongside his, arm draped over his shoulder and mouth too close to his ear.

Then he realized that he hadn't posed; someone must have taken the picture while they were cheering for a shot Joe had just landed. That explained Joe's ecstatic expression, at least. There were more, of course. Some with him and Tall Girl talking, some of him singing, and the only clear picture on the whole site- him outside, phone clutched to his ear. Worrying over Nick.

It was the headlines that were the most ridiculous. Joe Lucas; Bisexual Bad Boy? Seriously? Who'd thought that shit up?

Joe shook his head and clicked out of the frame. He wondered who'd taken the pictures and if they'd made any money off them. It was obvious that they wouldn't go to tabloids unless someone tracked down Tall Girl and her friend to confirm that he had been there. She was the only one in the bar who had recognized him, after all. That one clear picture of him on the phone didn't prove anything; the background was taxis and smoky silhouettes, nothing more.

Still, he could see why Kevin was shaken. Those pictures of Handsy and him were potential career ruiners when put in the wrong light, the kind of light any reporter worth his salt would shine on them.

Oh God, Joe thought. He really hoped Nick hadn't seen. Geez, this party boy stuff was harder than he'd initially thought. He'd have to be more careful next time. Wear a fake mustache, or something.

Nick chose right then to walk in, giving off a glow like some kind of human firefly.

"Joe," he slid a chair out from the kitchen table and slumped down beside him, breathing, "Hey."

"You're in a good mood," Joe remarked, frowning. Nick had that dumb daydreamer aura he always got when he was falling too fast. He hadn't noticed how totally obnoxious that was the last time it had happened.

"Yeah," Nick sighed this girly, stupid sigh that made Joe want to smack him upside the head. Seriously, women just sucked the masculinity right out of his little brother.

Normally, this would have been the part where Joe asked Nick how his date had gone and what he'd been doing all day.

He couldn't bring himself to do it. Joe closed his laptop and scooped it up in one arm, his bowl of congealing velveeta macaroni and cheese in the other, "I'm going upstairs."

Nick followed him.

Of course.

"Don't you want to hear about Penny?"

No.

Joe would have rather gone deaf than listened to a word about Penny.

"Sure."

"She's amazing."

"Right," Joe said, like that was to be expected.

"Everything I thought she would be," Nick gushed, some kind of sick romantic comedy hero brought to life.

"Uh hunh."

"Our date was fantastic. I mean, it was just a dinner and a movie thing; you know that one with all the cars and the explosions? She actually liked it, man! She is so down to earth."

"Okay," Joe nodded disinterestedly, his stomach turning. Maybe the velveeta was a bad idea. The second they reached the top of the stairs he tipped the whole bowl into Kevin's plastic garbage can.

"Then we went back to her house and listened to music. Penny has amazing taste."

"Yeah," he agreed, like he gave a flying hoot what kind of music Penny listened to.

"Right," Nick's voice was slightly strangled for a moment, "Then we fucked. On her father's office desk."

"Sounds fun," Joe said, catching himself only seconds after the words left his mouth, "Wait, what?"

Nick's lips twisted into a scowl, "You're not listening to me!"

"I am," Joe insisted, "Did you really have sex?"

"No! Moron," Nick added affectionately, "I'm not that easy."

Joe wanted to reply 'Penny is', but he managed to keep his mouth shut.

Nick was following him around their firehouse loft, tracking his every movement. When Joe went over to his bed, Nick shadowed him. So Joe decided to walk over to Nick's bed instead. See how he liked having his privacy invaded.

Hmm, he didn't seem to mind.

"You're mad," Nick stated, blinking, like he couldn't figure out why.

Joe chose not to respond.

It was an act of rebellion, really. He was showing his baby brother who was boss.

"Joe. Joe, look at me," Nick's fingers grazed his chin as he turned Joe's face towards him.

Okay, maybe baby brother was boss.

"Why are you mad?"

"I don't know."

"Joe."

"I said I don't know! Do I look like Kevin? I'm not all in touch with my feelings and stuff."

Now Nick was analyzing him, trying to figure him out. Joe didn't want to be 'figured out'. He made a rude gesture and flopped down on Nick's bed.

Nick clambered in after him.

"Did something happen?"

He thought about the pictures and bit his lip. He could tell Nick, and then his little brother would forget all about Penny, out of concern for the band. But then wouldn't he just be sabotaging himself? If Nick left Penny behind, all of Joe's newfound freedom would vanish. He'd have Nick Lucas, guard dog back on his heels.

Yeah, that was so not going to happen.

"Nah. Everything's good," Joe stretched, his shirt riding up and revealing inches of toned, flat stomach. For a second he thought Nick maybe might have been staring, but it was so ridiculous that he dismissed the idea immediately.

Nick's eyes flickered up towards the ceiling, towards his classic rock posters and the old water spots that paint barely covered, "You know, Penny's got a friend who thinks you're cute."

Joe smirked, "There's entire stadiums full of girls who think I'm cute."

"True. But this girl's not half-bad herself. Penny wanted to know if you wanted to do a double date thing."

Penny was apparently a presumptuous skank. Joe scowled.

"That's what I thought. I told her that you n' Stella are still trying to work out how you feel about each other."

He rolled his eyes. The Joe and Stella crush debacle had worked itself out last year, "Stella and I don't have any issues."

Nick's eyebrow arched, an enviable talent. He was facing Joe, lying on his side with this tiny little grin, smelling like soap and cologne and something spicy and Nick. Something in Joe's stomach clenched.

"Oh really?"

Not really, he thought. Because even if Stella knew exactly how she felt or didn't feel about him, Joe had no idea how he felt.

"Where were you today, anyway?"

Nick's lips twisted into a smile, soft and gentle, "With Penny."

Of course.

Yeah, Joe had _absolutely_ no idea how he felt.

About anything.

* * *

A/N: Oh em gee guys, thank you for all the reviews so far! They're so inspiring! Please continue to keep 'em coming.


	6. It's Twenty Seconds 'Til The Last Call

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Six_

By: Jondy Macmillan

* * *

School the next day? Torture.

Joe was counting down the seconds until lunch, praying that his teacher didn't pass back the results of his literature pop quiz; the 'rents wouldn't be very appreciative of the big fat 'D' he was ninety five percent certain he'd gotten. It was going to take a lot of prep to convince them that sometimes living the rockstar life meant failing conventional academics.

With so much blatant talent, it had to be expected there was a tradeoff. In the form of his brain dying a little every time he saw the name 'Shakespeare'. Ugh.

Yeah, a lot of prep was required, and he just didn't have it in him today. Not when Nick was acting like such a spaz, all lovestruck and _dumb_, asking him to go on double dates when Joe obviously didn't need any help in the date department. At all.

He just…liked being single right now, was all.

When the bell rang, signaling nearly a full hour of freedom from the monotony of lectures and testing anxiety, Joe jumped to his feet. He needed to find Nick and talk to him about this Penny thing. 'Cause while it had seemed like a good idea at first, really, it wasn't.

How much did they even know about this girl? She could be like, undercover paparazzi. She could be an agent from their label, trying to spy on them and find out if their newest songs were coming along alright. Hell, she could even be a serial killer. What if she was planning on strangling Nick to death with his own guitar strings?

Joe had always had the most overactive imagination of his brothers, excepting Kevin who mostly only used his to think about creatures with furry paws and big moon eyes, but usually Nick was there to talk him down. God, being in love was totally making Nick slack off on his brotherly duty.

That was just, not acceptable. See, Penny _was _bad for him.

Technically speaking, Joe was supposed to meet Stella for lunch. They'd been planning on working on some project for history, but really, dead guys didn't hold a candle to Nick, who probably knew more about the French Revolution than those dudes who'd actually revolted. So Joe could just claim he'd hunted down Nick for research, if Stella asked. Which she would.

She had like, a _complex_ about being blown off. Joe didn't really understand it, although maybe in retrospect he did kind of ditch her a decent amount. Like, maybe, a lot.

She was a good friend though. She'd understand that Penny had to be stopped from devouring Nick like the soulless succubus she so obviously was. Really, it was for the good of the band.

Unfortunately for Joe, Macy Misa just didn't understand the importance of his mission. Oh, sure, maybe she would have if he did something silly like explain it to her, but sometimes it was kind of hard to get a word in edgewise with the girl.

"Ohmigod, Joe of JONAS! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm-"

"I saw Kevin of JONAS yesterday at the park! He's so sweet," she gushed. Joe opened his mouth to say something, anything to relay the importance of stopping the she-beast Penny, but Macy just barreled on.

"Did you know that your brother is super sweet? He bought me ice cream and taught me all about how to use soundboards and mixers, which you know, I've never realized would have a direct impact on my life like that," she explained in a voice that was too serious for the subject matter, "But Kevin said I had to learn the how pivotal these things can be to musicians like you and oh-"

Joe zoned out for a second, unable to comprehend why Kevin would blow it with the girl he liked like that. Talking about soundboards and mixers, seriously? It was ever so slightly better than the way he normally acted like a super-dork around girls he had crushes on, but infinitesimally so. Kevin was lucky, really, the Macy thought he'd hung the moon and the stars, as evidenced by her recounting every word Kevin _had ever said_.

"Macy, that's-"

"-and I wanted to ask if you would be willing to give a speech to my fanclub. I mean, I know you guys are super busy, and of course Kevin couldn't come- just you and Nick of JONAS-"

Nick. Right. Joe had to focus on the mission here. Find Nick. Save him from impending doom.

"-but we'd all really appreciate it. I haven't asked up until now because I was trying to work up the nerve, but seeing as how it's your last year here- gosh, I really meant to ask before Kevin graduated but for some reason when I see him I end up talking really fast and have trouble getting words out. You know what that's like, Joe of JONAS? Of course you probably don't, I mean you're so cool and famous and dreamy-"

Joe needed to leave now. He took a step back.

Wait, was that a lacrosse stick in Macy's hand?

Joe dodged left just as Macy swung right, but he wasn't fast enough. He ended up with the netted end right in his side, and man, for a little girl Macy hit hard, even by accident.

"I am _so_ sorry!" she squealed, "Oh, gosh, oh, are you okay?"

Kevin had his hands full with this one.

"I'm fine," he gasped, even though it kind of felt like she might have ruptured his kidney. Whatever, you only needed one of those, right?

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Macy apologized, her doe eyes wide. She really was very pretty, and perfect for Kevin. Joe wished them all the luck in the world. As soon as he got his breath back.

"Look, Macy, I think the fanclub thing sounds fine," Joe choked out between gritted teeth, half from annoyance, half from pain.

"Really?" she shrieked. Practically everyone in the hallway turned to watch her jump up and down like a five year old at a birthday party. She threw her arms around Joe's neck and dangled there until he grunted in pain, "Oh- I mean, um, sorry."

"It's okay," he pasted on his most benevolent, Mother Theresa-imitating smile, despite the fact that he was seriously considering running to the nurse's office for ice in case his spleen decided to implode, "I just have to talk to Nick about when we could do it- wait, yeah, that's good."

He was struck by inspiration.

"What?" Macy asked sweetly, "What's good?"

"Um, asking Nick. I should do that. Right now," he made a vague gesture with his hands, "I don't suppose you've-er, _seen_ Nick?"

"Nick of JONAS is in the outdoor atrium, playing guitar," Macy enthused. Then something dark flitted across her pretty features, "She's with that girl, the one that stole his song."

"He's dating her," Joe explained, wincing as the words passed his lips.

"Really? I'll have to post that on my fansite. She doesn't seem like his type," Macy worried at her nail with her teeth, like the concept of Nick dating someone that didn't fit him seriously concerned her.

"I'd hold off on the fansite thing," Joe warned, "Until we're sure they're solid, I mean."

"You're right!" Macy beamed, clapping her hands and nearly decapitating him with the lacrosse stick, "Good plan."

Joe was rather intelligent, except for that whole literature debacle. He beamed right back, acknowledging his extraordinary prowess in all things sensible and brainy. Macy didn't have to know that Nick and Penny wouldn't be staying together because Joe had decided to exorcise the she-beast. That would just offend her delicate sensibilities, Joe thought, maybe. Although with the way she wielded athletic implements enlisting Macy in the demon outing might not have been a bad idea.

"Macy," Joe asked just before he turned to leave, "What do you think Nick's type is?"

It was a viable question. Joe had never really thought of Nick having a type, other than someone sweet, who knew her own mind. That seemed to be the ongoing theme with most of the girls Nick paraded- well, no, Nick never paraded girls around. That was Joe's job.

"Oh! Oh? Well, I always thought that Nick of JONAS would go for someone more like…hmmm…" Macy pursed her lips and thought about it, long and hard. Joe was _this_ close to telling her that he didn't have time for her gears to turn and that the question would just have to wait when Macy snapped her fingers and said, "I know. I always kind of thought that Nick would end up with a girl like- like you, Joe."

That he hadn't expected.

"Like me?"

"Yeah!" Macy slapped a fist into her hand, like she was nailing down an idea, "You know, a girl who's funny, smart, good at music…maybe dark hair."

She blushed a little, touching her own hair, and while Joe knew she was thinking of herself, Joe was thinking that _he_ had dark hair. He was funny and smart and good at music, so why would Nick need a girl version of him? Nick had the real him.

Except- wait, no. Where was his mind going? Why would Nick be romantically interested in his own brother? Aside from being wrong in a multitude of ways, that was just…really, it was just ridiculous. Seriously, this is why he needed Nick, to quell his overactive mind.

"Okay. Um, thanks, Macy."

"No problem!" she chirped, waving goodbye, "Let me know about the fanclub!"

He would. He just couldn't think about that now, about asking Nick that when his baby brother obviously needed to be saved from this demon of a girl that was making him…not brotherly enough, not there to give Joe all the attention he required.

Call it middle child syndrome or whatever, but Joe needed Nick to…to be there, really. Penny had only gone on one, maybe two dates with him and already she was stealing away Nick's time.

It occurred to Joe as he fled the scene that he might be thinking too harsh of Penny. After all, it was his own genius idea to set her up with Nick. Their dating was giving him the taste of freedom he'd been craving.

But somehow, when he thought of the way Nick had spent most of the summer waiting up for him whenever he went out solo, freedom didn't matter so much.

Family was what was important. He'd just have to find a way to balance family with his partying needs. He could have his car with suicide doors and his little brother sitting in the passenger seat, couldn't he?

After all, Joe thought as he turned the corner towards the open air atrium, family was-

Not this. Family wasn't this sensation that washed over him like a tsunami, like hot lava, like an avalanche.

Joe couldn't breathe. He felt like maybe, over there, where Nick and Penny stood so intertwined that he could barely tell where his little brother ended and the she-demon began, maybe their suction cupped lips were somehow stealing away all his air.

Watching Nick's tongue tangle with Penny's, the way his hands grabbed at her hair and her back and her butt, lust sliced through him like a blade, pierced him until he couldn't move from the spot. It wasn't towards the girl, with her sunshine hair and her sugar pink tongue twisting against Nick's mouth.

His Nick's mouth.

When had his baby brother become this way? This man-boy demi-god, with his masculinity so blatantly on display in the flex of his biceps as he grabbed, in the brush of his stubble as he kissed her, elicited tiny moans from her throat that Joe couldn't quite hear from where he stood.

The lust settled low and burning in his belly, while possessiveness overtook it.

This couldn't happen. She had to let go of Nick, now.

Joe took a step forward, ready to scream, to shout, to rage against them. His hands were clenched into fists and he was breathing hard, even though it felt like every breath he took was labored and difficult.

God, this show they were putting on was almost obscene. Did she just put her hand in Nick's pocket? Like she was trying to feel him up? That was disgusting. Fucking whore.

He took another step, and another. He would stop this. He would.

No one would touch Nick like that ever again. No one but-

It felt like the entire world was crumbling. If the halls of the school had begun to cave in, Joe wouldn't have been surprised.

He wanted to stop Nick and Penny from kissing. But more than that, he wanted to run away, from the gravity, from the recognition of the thoughts that had been sifting through his mind, sand through an hourglass.

Joe Lucas just realized; he was a monster.

So he did what any monster worth his salt would do.

He ditched school, grabbed his car, and high tailed it up to the city. At least if he gave himself alcohol poisoning, he wouldn't have to think about it.

* * *

A/N: I don't know why I did this story in past tense. It's currently killing me; I wish I could go back and switch to present, but I'm entirely too lazy. Um, and 'kay, I'm currently watching Beauty and the Beat and why is Stella wearing an Arizona sash? I swear to god, if they're changing where this gig's set, I'm going to be hella upset. Wikipedia ('cause god knows _that_ never lies –sarcasm-) and all the other sources online say it takes place in Jersey…um, so right, if it turns out they've now decided on Arizona, it's too late to change this fic and you'll all have to excuse me for the fact that Disney is full of wishy-washy idiots. Then again, this fic probably never would have happened if I didn't think they were in Jersey- my knowledge of Arizona is limited to Prescott, and it certainly isn't enough to form a story. Oh god. I'm in a really babbly mood right now. Thank you for the reviews, guys- you have no idea how much I appreciate knowing that people are reading and liking this story! Please review this chapter, and I'll try to update quicker!


	7. Felt It In My Fists, In My Feet

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Seven_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: THIS. This is my new favorite link- (here goes the httpcolonslashslash)notalwaysright(dotcom)/another-blow-to-the-disney-slave-trade/1933 Everyone should go check it out, 'cause it made me laugh. Also- I've had a couple reviewers tell me they hate Penny. I just wanted to let everyone know I'm not exactly a fan myself- I don't hate her, but I actually don't like any of the girls on the show other than Stella and Macy. 'Cause…well, there's just not enough character to like. But I also don't like putting OC's in fanfics unless it's a fanfic completely made of OC's. So….there's my explanation of Penny's presence.

* * *

He found a bar with gigantic wooden doors propped open like welcoming arms. They kind of resembled the entrance to a barn. The outside walls were painted red, just to add to the illusion.

It was called 'Off The Chain' or 'Off the Hook' or some three word title starting with 'off' that Joe would be too drunk to remember by the time he left.

It was too early in the evening for the place to be filled, but there was a smattering of older men staring at the large plasma screen TVs with rabid eyes. There was a Yankees game on. Joe ignored it. He'd never liked sports much, and right now getting blitzed was infinitely more important than watching men run back and forth across a field miles and miles away.

Outside the air smelled damp with the promise of rain. Joe sat nearest to the doors, where he could people watch. It seemed like a better alternative to sulking in the dark shadows of the booths in back.

He ordered a beer from a bartender who couldn't have been taller than five foot two; she could barely see over the bar top. Still, she smiled at Joe in a pretty, being-polite-for-tips way that made him instantly like her. Somewhere during the course of the night, they'd strike up a conversation and talk about her majoring in philosophy and then dropping out of school three credits short of graduation to find herself, but that would be many drinks later.

Joe sipped his beer, tongue rolling around notes of sweetness and bitterness, tickled by carbonation and cold. There was a break in the game, and a commercial advertising JONAS's upcoming concerts a couple months from now aired. There was a flash of Nick's face, and Joe downed the rest of his drink, missing the closing list he knew by heart. PNC Bank Arts Center, the Bowery Ballroom, etc, etc, etc. Places he'd been a thousand times before, to play, or even better, to watch other people do the same.

Once, when he was small, he'd heard his parents fighting. His dad, goofball that he was, had gone out and gotten trashed with a group of his fraternity brothers from college. His mom had yelled and yelled that alcohol wasn't the solution to life's problems. Yeah, Joe was going to prove that was so not true.

In fact, he decided halfway through his second drink, alcohol was doing a damned good job of making him forget he'd had a problem at all. He began eavesdropping on some of the old men's conversations, listening to them pander on about what it had been like to be young and go to their first baseball games. Listening to them relive glory days that Joe was still living, only they didn't feel so glorious anymore.

After he'd polished off his third drink and the sky began to burgeon with clouds in a gunmetal gray color that was rarely seen outside of skyscraper windows and designer shoes, Joe gave into his pressing need to pee. The bathrooms were in the back, past the foosball table and the cracked leather booths.

The restroom had a rickety wooden door plastered with band stickers, although none of them were for JONAS. They advertised indie rock that Joe had barely heard of in whiffs and snatches of conversation from the school hallways, and some bands that he'd never heard of at all.

Inside, a figure caught his eye. Then he realized it was his reflection. There was his face in the mirror. He half smirked, hoping it would make him look anything but pale and wan. It didn't work. He glanced around to make sure there weren't any guerilla paparazzo hanging out by the urinals with the bane of the modern world; a camera phone.

"Rockstar," Joe whispered, touching his finger to the surface of the mirror, almost surprised when the glass didn't ripple away like water in a pond.

This night wasn't like the other one, when the whole world felt like it held promise. This night was air settling heavy on his arms, forecasting a monsoon about to pour from the pregnant sky and thoughts tucked back in the recesses of his mind, popping up at intervals like some kind of whack-a-mole game.

When Joe got back to the bar, he found his seat had been stolen by a mildly attractive girl with black hair and thick rimmed glasses. She didn't even look up when he leaned over her to ask the bartender for another beer.

After he gulped it down he realized she wasn't so attractive after all. He like dark hair, but it had to be curly. He liked doe eyes, but they had to have this spark of intelligence, this sly sense of humor lurking in the depths. This girl's eyes were flat, despite all the kohl around the edges, clumping together with her mascara.

His phone buzzed, but he ignored it, launching into a conversation with one of the old-timers. Staring at the sky only passed so much time, and really, really involved too much thinking.

The man was a vet from the Korean war, only he pronounced it Kor-an, and at first Joe thought he was talking about the Islamic holy book. Only Joe doubted he would talk about that at all, because this man was the kind of person who said A-rabs, like some kind of redneck. The man would only talk to him on commercial breaks, so Joe turned to the bartender next. That's when she told him all about 'finding herself', like it was some kind of intramural sport you perfected with real world experience. Joe wasn't sure about that; he had a lot of real world experience, but he didn't really seem to know who he was any better than he had when he was five.

His phone vibrated again. This time he deigned to check the caller ID. It was Nick, and that just meant he desperately needed another drink, and was it time for hard liquor yet? What was that rhyme? Beer before liquor, never been sicker?

Hmm…

Really, who listened to stupid rhymes anyway? When had Twinkle Twinkle Little Star helped anybody with anything?

Exactly.

Joe ordered a Long Island Iced Tea if only because it was the only drink he'd ever seen his mom drink other than a Bloody Mary, which had entirely too many vegetables in it for a proper drink. He'd always wanted a sip, but Sandy Lucas wasn't about to advocate of underage drinking to her sons.

It tasted kind of like spiked soda, which was alright, but not as good as straight whiskey. It didn't burn the same way going down.

The third time Joe's phone rang, he picked up. He wasn't sure why; nothing had changed. Not the reason he was here, not his state of inebriation, and not his feeling that he might-maybe-possibly have been feeling something with someone he seriously shouldn't be even thinking about that way.

It helped that it was Kevin calling this time.

"Dude, where are you?" Kevin's voice sounded tinny and faraway, "You need to get home, like, now."

"Um," Joe murmured, "Do I have to?"

"Yes!" Kevin was getting all high and squeaky, the way he did when he lied, or when he was seriously freaked out.

"I don't think I should," Joe told the phone in his most serious business voice, his Nick Lucas voice.

"Joe, what the hell's all that noise in the background? Where are you?"

"Out."

"Out where?" Kevin asked suspiciously, "Please don't be where I think you are. Joe, you can't do this."

For some reason Joe found that hilarious; of course he couldn't do this. He couldn't do anything, not even be normal. Maybe that's why, he thought. Maybe all his suppressed rage at not being able to control shit in his life recently somehow spiraled into taboo lust. Oh, yeah, this was getting funnier by the second. Joe was laughing and laughing and Kevin was saying something, but it sounded more like Pig Latin than actual English.

"Joe, come home!" his big brother pleaded, and maybe it struck a chord; the idea of someone being brotherly. If Kevin could be all fraternal and loving, Kevin who'd barely been smart enough to graduate high school, there was no way Joe couldn't do it. He could be big brotherly too. He could not have bad, dirty, disgusting thoughts about wanting Nick to make out with him instead of stupid, whorish Penny…and wow, maybe Joe hadn't actually thought about Nick's lips on his until that moment, but he definitely was now.

"Okay," he whispered to Kevin, hating himself for caving, but hating himself even more for not knowing what else to do. Maybe he could talk to Kevin about this. Maybe Kevin would offer him an arm and 'big brotherly advice', and Joe would take it and say- what, exactly? There was no way he could tell Kevin about this. He'd end up getting electroshock therapy at the local madhouse.

Yeah, time for one more drink. Just for the road.

* * *

Joe ran to his car, stumbling over his own feet in a drunken stupor. The sky was falling down, water pouring from a scar in the heavens.

Rain was never the same in New York City as it was back home. Here the pavement grew gray, water pooling in ancient dents and curves on sidewalks that probably hadn't seen repairs since the city had been called New Amsterdam. The puddles were oily black, and it was conceivable they were filled with floating trash and homeless-man-piss.

Even the raindrops felt like they were making him filthier instead of washing away his sins.

Then again, Joe was beginning to think he had the kind of sins that took more than a good downpour to erase.

Joe slammed the door of his car wide open, diving inside without caring that his leather seats were being soaked through. His keys lay at the bottom of his jacket pocket, but his fingers fumbled around them, unable to find a grip.

They fell to the floor, and when Joe glanced down the stupid removable rug looked a million miles away. He banged his head against the steering wheel in frustration.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut, at first because he was annoyed that he let himself get this fucked up. Then because he remembered why he'd done it, and it turned out being in love with your baby brother wasn't something you could erase with rain _or _liquor.

* * *

By the time Joe made it home it was _hours_ after Kevin had called. He'd tried to be responsible and drive really slow, but Joe doubted Kevin would count drunk driving as being responsible at all.

His parents were already in bed; it was well past midnight. But when Joe made it up to the loft at the top of the firehouse, he found all the lights switched on.

Nick and Kevin were sitting on his bed. They hadn't noticed him yet, standing in the stairwell looking like a wet rat. Joe watched them, heads bent close together.

Brothers, consummately.

He shivered, a violent cough wracking through his body from the cold. It was enough to draw their attention.

They turned twinned looks of disappointment on him, and his heart caught in his chest.

Kevin did a once over on him, taking in the way Joe's jeans stuck to his thighs, the heavy, wet weight of his jacket. He got up from the bed and said quietly, "Mom just did a fresh load of laundry. I think there're some warm pajamas still in the dryer."

He went to fetch them, and when he passed by the stairwell Joe thought he'd never seen his older brother look so very old.

Then he was left alone, staring at the one person he'd been trying to avoid all night. It was weird; how comfortable he could feel on stage in front of thousands of screaming fans, but here, in his own bedroom, in front of a single person, his heart was beating out a samba.

"Hey," he said, but the word came out cracked. Broken.

Nick just stared at him, like he was trying to evaluate whether or not Joe was actually a stranger that had walked into his house by mistake. Joe grimaced and walked over to the bed.

"_Honey_, I'm home," Joe muttered a little louder than his initial 'hey', wishing Nick would just stop with the games already. Joe had never done well with the silent treatment.

"I can't even look at you right now," Nick finally said, and that's when Joe noticed the glowing computer screen next to him. Kevin hadn't been able to keep the pictures from him. Joe wondered if there would be more from tonight, or if hanging out with a bunch of old men watching baseball had bought him tabloid anonymity.

"Fine," Joe snarled, unable to help the rush of hurt that filled his chest, "Get the fuck off my bed."

Nick did, but he was a liar. He stood there, watching, while Joe stripped down to his boxers. By the time Kevin had returned with clean clothes, Joe was already pretending to be fast asleep.

But he could still feel Nick's eyes boring through his skull.

* * *

A/N: Aw, guys! I really appreciate the reviews!!! I know I'm slow at updating, and even slower at getting to the romance-bromance due to my affinity for long multi-chapter fics, but you've all been so supportive!!! So thank you, and please continue to review!!!


	8. Stardust To Remember You By

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Eight_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Okay, prompt. I physically need someone to write a rp commentfic where Nick and Joe have a discussion about the whole Miley 'you're gay' slip during her performance of 7 Things I Hate About You. Because really, that just calls for some type of 'how did she know?' discussion, and I don't write rpf. Go on. Do it. You know you want to…And then note me so I can read it! Thank you all for the amazing reviews I've received up until now- you guys keep me writing when I think I don't have any words left in me.

* * *

"He had alcohol on his breath, Kevin."

The first thing Joe heard the next morning was Nick's voice, murmuring softly to Kevin as they got ready for school. Normally, Joe hated the fact that his brothers were early risers. They'd chatter on and on, endlessly about things Joe cared much less for than sleep; tugging him from the edge of fluffy, comfortable dreams. It was, in a word, obnoxious.

The opportunity for eavesdropping happened to be its one useful quality, however, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth. He nestled into his pillow and tuned in.

"I know," Kevin snapped back. Apparently Joe coming home drunk didn't make him feel all warm and fuzzy like Joe might have hoped. It was rare that his big brother got into

Nick groaned, and Joe could imagine in his head exactly what kind of face his baby brother was making at that second, "I just wanted to know what to do about the pictures, Kev. I didn't think this was going to be some- _thing_ of his."

"Dude, this isn't a thing. Baseball's a thing. Getting addicted to video games is a thing," Kevin's general vicinity rustled, and Joe knew he was shaking his head disparagingly and waving his arms in that frantic way he did when he was frustrated, "This is a problem."

"A fucking big one," Nick agreed.

Joe kind of hated that his brothers were talking about him like he was some kind of screw up. Then again, he'd known it would happen going in; they'd never cared about all the perks of being rockstars. They just wanted to make music.

Pssh. Music.

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Joe loved music. He loved that even though he'd never been as talented as his two brothers, they'd still given him the opportunity to be a frontman; to sing when maybe his voice wasn't the best of the three. They'd given him the fame he craved, just because they were good brothers.

It was enough to make guilt weigh heavy on Joe's heart.

Then Nick said, "Should we have like, an intervention, or something?"

"He's not an alcoholic, Nick. It's not like he's bringing a flask to school or anything. I think. He's…I don't know, going out, having fun," Kevin sighed, loudly, "He's just not being responsible about it. At all."

"It's Joe. He's the least responsible person I know," Nick shot back, "That's what I'm worried about."

Gee, Joe thought, thanks for the support, little brother.

At least Kevin had his back. Kind of.

"He had to have driven home drunk, smelling like that. God, what if he'd gotten a DUI?" Kevin muttered, "Between that and the tabloid pictures, our career would be ruined."

Well. So much for having Joe's back.

"Do you want to talk to him, or should I?" Nick asked, and by the tone of his voice Joe could tell that he wanted their big brother to take charge. Kevin was a total flake, but he was the best at handling the whole stern-talking-to angle.

It came with the territory of being the oldest.

Joe was strangely okay with that. If he had to talk to Nick about last night, he didn't know what he'd say or do. He clambered out of bed when Kevin and Nick disappeared downstairs for breakfast. He didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

They were just…overreacting. A couple of pictures couldn't have that big an impact on JONAS's career.

No way.

No how.

Joe had more faith in his fans than that.

Still, maybe it wouldn't hurt to be on his best behavior. Just for a little while.

* * *

At school, during lunch, Stella found him. That in and of itself wasn't a surprise. Stella had some kind of Joe-dar, and whether he was in the boy's bathroom or hiding in the library, she always seemed to know where he was.

"So, I heard you're bisexual now?"

"I prefer the term bicurious," he glanced up from his sandwich, which he'd been enjoying in peace on the near deserted stairwell at the west end of the school.

"Your brothers must be pretty pissed."

"They might have a few objections to my recent behavior," Joe raised an eyebrow, "Do you?"

"Well-"

"Et tu, Brutus?"

Stella shrugged, "Look, I'm no stranger to the get wasted and pass out routine-"

"Since when?" Joe interjected, offended that Stella had been keeping a part of herself from him.

That was so not best friend behavior.

She smirked, "You guys go on tour for huge chunks of practically every summer. I've gotta stay entertained somehow."

"Sneaky."

He watched her preen, "I'll have you know, Joe, that I am an enigma."

Stella was a girl. Of course she was an enigma. They all were. He gave her his best patented 'duh' expression.

"Anyway," she continued, "You don't have the luxury of acting like a normal teenager. You can't keep doing this whole fake ID college bar thing- I'm sorry, but you're too well known. Partying is all about having fun and acting stupid, and your band's reputation can't risk public pictures of you…well, acting like you're going through some kind of bad boy rebellion."

"I get that. But there's no other way for me to- to-" Joe searched for words, coming up short.

"-to take advantage of being a rockstar? Joe, come on. You've given up so much for this band. Do you really want to throw it all away just so you can party? Start going to some school parties instead; with kids you trust. Van Dyke holds great keggers."

"I'm not going to a party thrown by Van Dyke Tosh."

"Your loss," she sighed, "Okay, what about a celebrity party? One where paparazzo's not going to be present, I mean."

"Nick and Kevin would never let me go to that kind of party."

"How do you know? Have you asked them, maybe?"

He couldn't tell her he'd spent the morning eavesdropping on his brothers, and that he'd pretty much gleaned they thought he was morphing into a perennial frat boy just because of two random bar stops. He couldn't imagine their reaction if he was all 'I want to go to one of those celeb bashes, you know, the ones where they do coke off women's stomachs and oh, can I take the limo?'

Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over well.

"Hey, you never know, Joe. Maybe one of them will even go with you," Stella placed a comforting hand on his arm.

That was just what he needed. What if Nick decided to come with? Then Joe, in a completely altered, drunken state of mind, could confess that he was suddenly jonesing to see how tight Nick's skinny jeans really were.

No thank you.

Joe shook Stella off, "I appreciate the advice. Really, Stella. I was thinking I'd just stay out of the public eye for a little while, until the rumors die down."

Stella bit her lip, "Have your parents talked to you yet?"

"I'm not even sure if they know. I think Kevin's been running damage control."

She smiled, soft and sweet, "You're lucky to have such good brothers, Joe."

"So I've heard."

The guilt flooded back then, accompanied by a flash of Nick, who right then he kind of wished wasn't his brother at all.

* * *

Nick said, "I need to talk to you," somewhere in between reruns of some reality TV show that Joe was only half-paying attention to anyway.

"I kind of figured."

"What have you been up to this past week?"

"Oh, I don't know. A little bit of this. A little bit of that. What have you been up to, Nick? Oh wait, I know. Penny," Joe laughed humorlessly, settling back against the sofa.

"That's not fair, Joe. Is that what this is about? Do you think I haven't been paying enough attention to you?"

Yes. Well, to the second part. Wanting to have the rockstar life wasn't really about Nick's love life at all. But Nick's attention had been centered on a certain harlot-who's-name-rhymed-with-Lenny lately, and that might have contributed to some bad-decision making.

Slightly.

"No, of course not. I don't see what the big deal is anyway, Nick. I've had a couple of beers. So what?"

"You going out and drinking isn't the problem, Joe. I mean," Nick ran a frustrated hand through his hair, "It is the problem, but it's not the fact that you're drinking. It's the attention you're calling to it."

"Someone took a few pictures, made up a few rumors. Big effing deal."

"Joe! Jesus, it is a big deal. You're- you're not really bisexual, are you?"

Those words made him stop and look at Nick, for real. He wanted to say no, that's ridiculous.

He wanted to, but all Joe could think was that Nick's got amazing eyes and lips.

Maybe questioning his sexuality wasn't so ridiculous after all. Was it just Nick, or would other guys get him all hot and bothered the way he was feeling now, the way he never should feel when his brother's standing in the room.

Still, that probably wasn't the answer Nick was looking for, so he gritted his teeth and lied, "No. How can you even ask that?"

"I'm just checking, dude," Nick held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, "It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. If you were, I mean. We could figure out a way to spin it."

Joe scoffed, "We don't need to spin anything. I'm- I'm going to stop going to college bars."

Nick sighed in relief, "Really? That's the best thing I've heard all day."

His little brother sagged in the seat beside him, like strings had been holding him up all day and he'd finally been cut free.

It didn't help the guilt thing much.

Except…Joe wasn't quite ready to give up on that whole rockstar dream. He hadn't even gotten to party for real, to take advantage of pretty girls and whatnot. Really, all he'd done was have a beer or two or five in some measly, poorly lit bars.

"You know that invite we got to that one party next week?" he said, kind of out of the blue. Nick tensed beside him.

"That one on the Upper East Side?"

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

"I want to go."

Nick gave him a look like 'what-are-you-crazy'? Joe hated the look, but he wondered if maybe it was time to start questioning his sanity. Because, this thing he was proposing wasn't exactly a JONAS approved, family friendly activity.

"C'mon, Nick. No cameras. No fans. I promise, I'll drink responsibly."

"You shouldn't be-"

-drinking at all. Yeah, yeah. Joe knew.

"Loosen up a little Nick. Look, come with me. Bring-" he had to grit his teeth to force her name out, "Penny."

That got Nick to reconsider.

"Well-but- Joe, I'm just not sure it's a good idea. You know what those parties are famous for."

"After we go, they'll be famous for having two thirds of JONAS at them," Joe replied with a snarky grin.

Nick couldn't help but return it.

"Let me think about it."

"Nick," he whined.

"Joe," his baby brother warned.

"Niiiick."

"Okay. Fine. Just this once," Nick agreed, looking as though he'd do anything to make Joe happy.

It made Joe feel warm inside.

"Just this once," Joe agreed.

Of course, he was lying.

Hell, he was even getting good at it.

* * *

A/N: Slow chapter, but I needed to work up to the next one. IE, the chapter where shit really hits the fan. Please review and let me know what you think!


	9. What Easy Used To Be

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Nine_

By: Jondy Macmillan

* * *

Celebrity parties were tricky.

On the one hand, they were exclusive enough that nine times out of ten you'd only get photographed going in the door.

On the other, they were populated by the same crowd.

Every. Single. Time.

Joe had met some of the people at this gig more times than his first period English teacher, and he liked some of them considerably less.

There were clustered groups of child stars and their entourages from that one company that practically ruled the world. The one with the animated rat, or rabbit, or some kind of rodent. Joe knew some of them from the few times JONAS coordinated with that conglomerate; got featured on their radio show and shit.

Being young didn't make these people any nicer though. Actors, musicians, models, directors; whoever. They were all people, but had a larger capacity than most to be catty, rude, and downright douchey.

He didn't blame them. It came with the territory of being confident, self assured, and positive that you were the hottest shit this world had ever seen.

Sure, there were nice guys and girls in the entertainment industry.

Plenty.

It was just, Joe hadn't seen a single one of 'em at this particular party.

Even so, as Joe looked around at all the well-known faces, he was excited. He was frickin' bouncing off the balls of his feet excited. This was where it was at, man. This party was poppin'.

He saw one or two faces that left him star struck and a whole lot that had once made his heart race. Now the shine had worn off most of them.

Not for Penny though. She was dolled up in some dress she'd gotten vintage clothes shopping; which really, what was that? Vintage clothes shopping? Was that what you did when you could only afford Wal Mart but were too lazy to drive there and opted for your grandma's closet instead?

Nick thought it was great that Penny had decided to be so authentic and cutting edge. Penny had obviously slipped him something, because her dress was pretty much the most hideous thing Joe had ever seen, and it might have been cutting edge…on Jane Austen.

"Ohmigod, that guy was in that movie about the-" Joe zoned Penny out as she went on and on about some actor that was currently famous for playing a zombie or a vampire, or some supernatural creature with impeccable hair. The guy was an asshole. Joe knew it and Nick knew it, but that didn't stop the younger Lucas from taking Penny over to make introductions.

While she squealed unintelligible words at the poor, rather annoyed looking actor, Nick grimaced over his girlfriend's head at Joe. Joe refused to acknowledge his little brother's pain; it was his fault for having such terrible taste in women.

At least he'd come to the party.

Joe had figured Nick would back out at the last second, but apparently he was more concerned about Joe's happiness and extracurricular habits than he'd thought. Maybe Nick was just making sure that Joe wasn't really a bisexual bad boy, or whatever the headline had been, but it meant something that Nick had come.

It meant more than Joe wanted it to mean.

Anyway, it wasn't like Joe could get in any trouble at this party. Not with Nick here.

Which meant he could finally let down his guard.

Relax.

Party like a rockstar.

Joe was going to order some whiskey at the bar the host had set up. It would probably cost twenty bucks.

Another celebrity character trait that Joe found really fucking annoying; half of them were thrifty as hell. Like, couldn't the host spring for an open bar? The guy was loaded; it wouldn't have put him out or anything.

At least the set up was nice. Joe was impressed by the expensive liquors lining glass shelves, each bottle spot lit like it was the number one VIP of the night. He walked straight toward it, fully intent on getting hosed when he realized his little brother wasn't following him. When he glanced back, Nick was staring at him like- like, Joe didn't know. There was heat in his baby brother's eyes that Joe didn't recognize, that was foreign in this place where things were strange and new and yet completely familiar.

Then Nick turned to Penny, tugging her arm away from that grade a douchebag of a movie star she'd been chatting up. When he looked back, he was just Nick again, something like little brother admiration and familial disappointment mixed in his expression.

Joe mouthed, 'Do you want a drink?', gesturing towards the bar. Nick shook his head 'no', and when Penny saw him do so, she did the same.

She was _such_ a follower.

Joe walked towards the bar and ordered that whiskey. He liked the burn down his throat to the pit of his belly, and he needed the reinforcement when he saw Nick and Penny disappear into the crowd of budding celebrities. He drank it down quick.

Once he turned back to the wide eyed bartender to order another, his eyes caught on a girl at the end of the bar. She shone like a star in a room full of stars though the only thing unique about her was the jangle of her bracelets interspersed with a sultry laugh she gave out for free. There was something about the flush of her cheeks and the playful curve of her lips; a pout verging on a smile meant to seduce anyone and everyone in the vicinity.

This girl was a temptress in training, a junior siren bent on luring sailors and gods and ordinary men from their drinks and into her arms.

Joe knew it.

He would have known it without ever seeing her, just hearing her name on a breath.

She was Nick's ex, after all. They'd dated for a while once, in a fairytale world that existed in a time long, long ago.

Maybe that was the real appeal, more than her lips and her eyes and her seduction.

This girl, this prosti-tot had been close to Nick, the way Joe could never hope to. Not that he _wanted _to. Except, yeah. Suddenly he wanted to taste her mouth and check if Nick still lingered beneath her cherry chapstick all these years later.

Resolutely he approached, an easy 'hi' rolling off his tongue. She grinned, offered him a drink. The stool next to her was empty, and he could see the dip of her back and the wings of her shoulder blades peeking from beneath her slinky metallic dress as he slid on the seat. She crossed her legs, making them look miles long, all the way down to her gunmetal shoes. Shoes made for stomping all over hearts.

Joe liked her molasses drawl and the cute tilt of her mouth when she urged him to do shots with her. He liked the way her lashes were long and black; against nature, judging by her thick, light hair. Somewhere off in the throng was his little brother, curled up in a dark corner with his bright spark of a laugh, carding his piano player fingers through his cheap tart of a girlfriend's hair.

It made Joe's stomach turn over and over until he felt like the only way to stop the merry-go-round of not-fun was to asphyxiate himself.

The pretty celebutante next to him put her hand on his forearm, her skin lukewarm like reheated leftovers, and murmured, "Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Joe said, "No- I'm great."

Nick and Penny found them about half an hour later. The couple was sweaty from dancing to soulless electronica and kissing 'til they were so dizzy they could have been drunk.

When Nick spotted Joe and his ex, it was like a shade dropped down over his eyes, darkening his irises to black.

"Well, hi y'all!" the famous pop princess who once had wanted nothing more than to hold Nick's hand cheered. She looked Penny up and down with the predatory expression of a girl who'd been scorned, dismissing her frumpy dress and flat hair within seconds.

"What do you think you're doing?" Nick's voice was carefully controlled, and Joe wasn't sure if the question was directed towards him or the ex.

"We're havin' fun, Nicky," the girl purred, saving Joe from answering, "Somethin' you should _really_ learn how to do."

She cast another belligerent look towards Penny.

Joe snorted at that. He was pretty sure that Nick was building up to a shit fit, but hell, the girl had a _point_.

"Joe," Nick said sharply.

"Nick," Joe mimicked his voice perfectly.

For a long moment, Nick stared at him. The heat was back, the fire, the everything that Joe couldn't quite understand but made his skin tingle all the way to his toes. Then Nick turned on his heel and dragged Penny behind him.

He left Joe behind.

Fine.

Whatever.

Okay.

Joe turned back to the ex and delivered his most winning smile, "How about another shot?"

An hour later Joe was so bombed that an alligator would have looked attractive. Nick hadn't come to find him this time, and it hurt. It hurt bad.

Why didn't Nick care enough to wrench him away from the loathed ex? Was Penny _that _interesting?

Interesting and pretty and female, and not related to him at all.

Shit.

The pop princess turned her pretty smile and her pretty claws on Joe, pulling the collar of his shirt and pressing up against him. He thought about fighting it. Her perfume was overwhelming and her fingers were sticky with spilled liquor.

Then he thought about the taste, the one thing he wanted to taste more than any alcoholic beverage. It seemed like such a good idea, if only to get closer to Nick for one second.

He closed the distance.

* * *

After they dropped Penny off, they drove home in silence. She'd filled the gaps up until then with bubbly chatter, with I saw so-and-so and I talked to that-dude-from-that-show. Like anyone in the car cared. Nick was tense; his hands clutched the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Joe wondered, off hand, if Nick had seen his make out session. His mouth tasted sticky, sickly sweet, like the girl's messy lips and the drinks that sat heavy in his stomach. But Nick didn't say a word, and Joe wasn't going to bring it up.

They got home alright. Kevin was curled up on the couch with Frankie, a movie flickering blue-white-blue on the plasma screen. Both were fast asleep.

Joe followed Nick upstairs, his footsteps echoing his frantic heartbeat, his need for something to fill the void of non-talking.

From the set of Nick's shoulders and the rigid line of his back, Joe could tell his little brother wasn't happy. Nick didn't voice it until they reached the top step, when he spun and ground out, "What the hell was that tonight? Why were you with _her_?"

Joe's world spun a little; he'd drank too much. Maybe that would make it easier to deal with Nick, but probably not.

"I…I dunno," he replied, meek as could be.

"Damnit, Joe! I-you- goddamnit!"

Joe groaned, raking his hands through his hair with so much force he might have pulled out a strand or two, "Jesus, Nick. Stop, like, I don't know- smoldering at me and just say what you need to say."

"I'm trying to save us all," Nick growled, "I'm trying to save you from self-destructing. But you make it so damned hard!"

"I don't need saving," Joe snarled back, trying to keep from lunging at his brother, from throwing a fist and starting a fight.

Because he wasn't nine years old anymore; mommy wasn't going to kiss their bruises and teach them to love each other in a gentler way.

Because he wished he still was nine, and it was all that easy.

Because the idea of hurting Nick made him physically sick, when brothers were supposed to bicker and fistfight in ways lovers never did.

"I think you do," Nick replied quietly, the calm before the storm.

He left; he was always leaving Joe, even if it was just for downstairs.

Joe clenched his fist and hit the wall. All that angry, frenetic energy needed to go somewhere.

If only he'd remembered firehouses were built out of brick.

"Fuck!" he screamed, clutching his knuckles.

A bright smear of blood stained his skin, splashed crimson against tan. He stared at its design on his fingers like he was trying to decide if it really ruled his destiny.

Blood, what was that? Why did it get to determine things like brothers and lovers and everything in between?

"Fuck," he whispered, and his voice was so soft it was like it didn't exist at all.

* * *

A/N: The next chapter will have no drinking. It will have Macy. And Stella. And Kevin and Nick. So, yay. And no, the girl was not Miley Cyrus. She just…sounded like Miley Cyrus. But Nick Lucas didn't date Miley Cyrus. I just imagine he dated some girl who is JONAS-world's Hannah Montana. So there. Thank you guys for all the reviews to date. You continually inspire me to update and not give up on this project!


	10. Pick Your Heart Up Off The Floor

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Ten_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Beware the sons of preacher men, because obviously they are so attractive they'll have you wanting to write gay incestuous fic. Damn you, Jonai. Stop being so gorgeous. And gay. And in love.

* * *

Joe wasn't sure when the ban on speaking to him was put in place, but it had definitely been established. This might have had something to do with the crumpled tabloid left at the foot of his bed half a week after the party.

During the course of that week, Joe had labeled the entire shebang a 'bad idea'. Obviously taking Nick somewhere that reeked of alcohol and sex was never going to equal fixing his damaged reputation with his brothers; he had no idea why he'd thought it would. Then again, Joe had no idea where most of his harebrained ideas came from, so really, this wasn't much different from all the other times he'd royally fucked up.

Until the tabloid.

Joe had thought there were no reporters at the party. Because really, what kind of d-bag celebrity actually invites the paps in?

Apparently the d-bag celebrity who'd hosted this particular shindig.

The Lucas boys weren't the only celebs who'd gotten their privacy invaded, but Joe was the only one at the whole gig who'd made the front page.

It wasn't something he was proud of.

Well, maybe a little. He hadn't been on the front page of anything for at least three months, and the anonymity had been getting to him.

But he would much rather it had been Rolling Stone.

Anyway, even though Nick had been pissed about the whole Joe getting shitfaced with his little brother's hated ex debacle, he'd sort of forgiven him.

Probably because he hadn't witnessed them suck face. Which really, was something Joe had been worried about; they'd been real discreet, with the dark corners and quiet groping and everything, but it never hurt to be too cautious. In retrospect, Joe really wished they found an empty bathroom with a locked door, despite the grody-factor.

Or better yet, Joe wished he'd just kept his hands off the little vixen.

Nick hadn't seen, and that had been the only thing that kept Joe's brother on speaking terms with him. After their fight that night, it had been a little rocky, but eventually Nick had relented. Joe swore up and down that he'd behave himself for at least an entire…well-day, because Joe found it rather hard to behave as per the actual definition of the word. He ended up playing some stupid prank and making Nick laugh, and he was damned if it wasn't like the sun breaking through the clouds when his baby brother smiled. He'd dedicated himself to spending the next few days making Nick smile as much as possible; so much so that it was almost like it was summer again, and he hadn't started constructing stupid ideas about being a real rockstar and he got to spend every waking moment with Nick.

Then it happened.

The tabloid, on his bed. Wrinkled and evil. It was laying on his chest when he woke up Monday morning.

In an ideal world, Joe would have prostrated himself in front of Nick the second he saw it, begging for forgiveness. Nick would have said, "You played tonsil hockey with my ex girlfriend, Joe."

And Joe would have replied, "I'm so sorry. So, so, SO sorry. She tasted like feet."

In his mind, he'd mentally add, 'which I'm pretty sure you don't taste like; I remember from that one time I licked you when we were wrestling. Since kissing her was an experiment to see if I could vacuum your saliva out of her lips or something, which apparently failed, it pretty much blew.'

Except instead of apologizing to Nick, Joe rubbed his bleary eyes and rolled over, pulling the blankets tight around him. Sleeping in an extra hour before school seemed infinitely more important at the time.

That had been four days ago. Since then, neither Nick nor Kevin had so much as asked him to pass the bread.

He was standing in the hallway at school, deliberating the correct way to approach his brothers of seventeen years and his whole life, respectively, when a voice called out, "Joe!"

He thought it was his imagination. The truth was, very few people had been talking to him of late. He even read on one blog that girls were starting to call him not-so-nice names. Weren't girls supposed to like the whole bad boy thing?

"Joe?"

Because really, this whole tabloid nonsense was getting blown way out of proportion. He'd heard TMZ was telling everyone that he'd had to give the girl money for an abortion, which was ridiculous. His dick had stayed nicely in his pants. It was difficult to get it up when kissing felt more like getting covered in dog slobber.

"JOE!"

Joe started, turning to face his attacker- er, Stella. She stood with her hands on her hips, lips pursed, head cocked, "Why are you standing in the middle of the hallway with your eyes glazed over? You look like a freak."

"Don't mind me," Joe scowled; he was so _not_ a freak, "I'm just nursing my broken soul."

Stella rolled her eyes, because she'd put up with years of Joe's dramatics. They didn't even faze her anymore.

"Kevin and Nick still aren't talking to you?"

"No," Joe carded a hand through his hair and groaned, "I don't get it. It's not like this is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"No," Stella grinned, "You've done plenty stupider things. I think it's just that this is the most publically humiliating thing."

"C'mon. Last year the tabloids were telling everyone that Kevin was considering a sex change. That was way more humiliating."

"And untrue."

Joe shrugged, "It could have been true. Just like the allegations made against me could be false."

"There're pictures, Joe. You're really trying to pretend it didn't happen?"

Yeah. That would be great. Pretending it hadn't happened would mean Nick might actually look at him in a way that didn't sting. He might actually get to hear his baby brother's voice again.

Oh, and Kevin's, of course.

"Absolutely not. I'm just saying that worse accusations have been made."

"God, if I was your brothers I'd be pissed at you too. It doesn't matter if worse things have been said; it matters that this happened. You betrayed Nick's trust."

Guilt welled in Joe's stomach. He hated when Stella was right, which she so often was.

"He broke up with the girl like, eons ago."

Sometimes his mouth- it just opened, and pure shit spilled out. He really needed to get control of that whole think-before-you-speak thing.

"It doesn't matter. Joe," Stella pursed her lips again, her earnest eyes trained on his face. She was scrutinizing him in a way that made him uncomfortable, "You know Nick hates that girl. She broke his heart. You screwing around with her is like…I don't know, Joe- it must feel like rejection. Like you're accepting that he's not good enough for her. Maybe even like you're saying that you're better than him."

"But I'm not! Nick's the best person I know."

Nick was funny at the weirdest frickin' times, with this subtle, quick wit and this amazing smile. There were times when Joe would just stop and stare at him, completely breathless.

Then he remembered that Nick was his brother, and it made him ache.

"Well, I know that," Stella laughed, beautiful and carefree, "Nick doesn't."

"He should."

"Maybe his big brother should tell him."

Joe had to think about that. How often did he tell Nick how completely fucking awesome he was? Never, it felt like. That _was_ a problem.

"But what about Kevin?" he asked. Sure, he wanted Kevin to speak to him again. Only Kevin not talking to him just felt like being in a fight with his dumb brother, while Nick's silence felt like something entirely different. Which, yeah- weird. Really frickin' weird, and really frickin' wrong. Joe was getting queasy just thinking of all the ways he needed psychotherapy.

"Kevin's just pissed on Nick's behalf. And maybe a little bit on behalf of all your fans."

"My fans?"

"JONAS's fans," Stella corrected, twirling her hair in a display of neon pink fingernails, "I think you guys are always presented as so…pure. This is the first time one of you has really, hugely, messed up in public, and I guess it's hard for them to swallow that you're human. You fuck up. Some of you more often than others."

"Gee, thanks," Joe growled sarcastically, glaring in the face of her bright, cheeky grin.

"No problem. I've known you're human for like, ever. Or at least since that time you ripped the head off my Malibu Barbie."

"Bitch was asking for it," Joe retorted crossly, even though he didn't even remember the event in question. He'd been all of three at the time.

"Joe!"

"Fine, whatever. I just get testy when people laugh at my pain."

Stella wasn't buying it, "I _am_ your best friend; it's my job to laugh when you trip and fall."

"Shouldn't you be asking if I'm okay when I trip?"

"Mmm, no," she laughed again, but then her face grew serious and she said, "You're Joe Lucas. I have complete faith you'll be okay, no matter what."

Oh yeah. That was why he was friends with her. Stella always believed in him. Even when he didn't deserve it. This time he replied honestly, "Thanks, Stell."

"Sure. One more thing," she stopped him as he prepared to run off and find his little brother, "You're lucky to be so close with Kevin and Nick. I know I don't have to tell you that, but you're _so _dense sometimes. Most siblings aren't nearly as tight knit as you guys. It's enviable. What I'm saying is- this time, don't screw up."

Joe wished he could reassure her. He wished he could tell her the reason he'd made such a big mistake was because he'd wanted to be closer to at least one of his brothers. But he didn't think he could take the disgust that would surely cross her face. Stella had never been anything but supportive, anything but a best friend. He didn't think he could stand for her to hate him, to hate the vile thoughts he'd been having about Nick.

To hate the fact he didn't think the thoughts were so vile, anymore.

* * *

He couldn't find Nick where he usually held court. He couldn't find Nick _anywhere _before the bell rang. By the time he made it to his next class, Stella's pep talk fresh in his mind, he still didn't feel like any less of a dick.

In fact, Joe didn't even get the chance to talk to his brothers that night. They had a scheduled band practice, but somehow Nick had persuaded their dad to rearrange it.

He was out on a date with Penny. Again. It made Joe gnash his teeth together.

Kevin was out, doing whatever it was Kevin liked to do.

Their parents knew about the article, and they were mad, but they'd kind of accepted that Joe was receiving punishment enough from his brothers and the verbal battering he was getting online. Joe appreciated that they were backing off, but he kind of wished that maybe they'd stop looking at him like they didn't know where their son had gone. They mostly left him alone that night.

He coaxed Frankie into watching a movie, but night fell soon enough.

When Joe went to sleep in his loft bedroom, it was without the sound of his brothers doing the same.

* * *

The next day at school, Joe decided he'd had enough. Nick was going to talk to him whether he wanted to or not. Then, once they'd reconciled, they could tackle Kevin together. Kevin was always easier to con into caving, anyway.

Joe missed his brothers. He missed band practice.

He missed Nick's smile.

They needed to understand that he wasn't going to compromise the things he wanted so they could all live in peace, but he was completely prepared to promise them the sun, the moon, and the stars if all they wanted was for him to tone it down.

Not lock lips with any starlets in front of cameras, that sort of thing. He was down with that.

Something that felt vaguely like an eighteen wheeler barreled into him right as he'd begun to hunt for Nick. The truck, who was better known as Macy, started sputtering apologies.

Right up until she saw who she'd accidentally assaulted.

On a normal day, if Macy had bumped into Joe, her go-to reaction would have been fangirlish squeals.

This wasn't a normal day.

This was post-tabloid.

Instead of screaming in delight, Macy gave him the most soul-crushingly devastated look he'd ever been on the receiving end of. She was staring at him like he'd single-handedly crushed all of her dreams. And somewhere mixed in with all that wreckage was the one emotion Joe hated even more than sadness. Disappointment. Macy Misa was disappointed with him, just like Kevin.

Just like Nick.

"Joe Lucas," she murmured, agonized, "How could you?"

This was exactly what all the online message boards had been asking. How could he be such an asshole? How could he backstab his own brother? How could he make such amazing music and still be such a lowlife?

He wanted to make an anonymous post and add, 'how could he be in love with his own brother?'

Joe winced and ducked his head, mumbling an apology.

Macy didn't even acknowledge it. She just walked away.

That was about when Joe realized that maybe living to party wasn't actually as fun as their song lyrics made it sound.

In fact, it kind of sucked ass.

He didn't find Nick that day. He did stop looking at himself in the mirror so much. More often than not, he didn't like what he saw there.

* * *

A/N: Sorry to cut the chapter off in a weird place. The next one's going to have lots of Nick, and I kind of didn't want to mush all the dialogue to come with all the Stella-ness of this chapter. I'm not really confident with this chapter though, so please review! Also, just in case you're wondering when the slashy bits are coming- soon. I promise. Very, very soon.


	11. I've Never Wished So Hard To Disappear

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Eleven_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Have I mentioned that you guys rock? You guys rock so hard. Every single review I get leaves me absolutely ecstatic. Thank you!

* * *

The first gig they played in the weeks of silence was pretty much the most awkward thing ever. Joe was off his game, and even the audience could tell.

"C'mon, Danger!" Kevin yelled into the mic; fake encouragement, and the name sounded like a curse. Even so, the words were the first his older brother had spoken towards him in ages, so Joe took heart from that. Plus the screaming girls; Joe never did understand how they had the capacity to keep screaming and screaming like they were trying out for some scary movie. Didn't they need to breathe?

Nick still wouldn't look him in the eye.

Afterwards, when they were bombarded by their fans, Joe noticed fewer girls were vying for his attention. There was no lack of fans; they just seemed to gravitate towards Kevin and Nick. The smattering that would meet his gaze reminded him of Macy.

"Ignore it," a voice said, and Joe glanced up. There was a girl in her late teens with much too much foundation caked on smiling wickedly at him.

"I'm sorry, what?" he glanced down at the notebook she wanted him to autograph and scribbled out his name. He could see a gleaming white imprint on the page. It was the kind that you make when you press down too hard with your pen and it leaves the fossilized remains of whatever you wrote behind. Just barely there under the bright lights, 'Mrs. Joe Lucas' was scrawled out. Now his signature overlapped the ghost of those words.

"I said ignore it. You're figuring yourself out, so what?"

"I- do I know you?" he asked, confused. The girl didn't go to Horace Mantis, he was sure of it.

"Nah," she gave this carefree giggle, like she couldn't believe Joe Lucas of JONAS had asked if he _knew_ her, but her words were firm, "I'm just saying, you look kind of lost. Don't let mistakes dictate your relationship with your brothers."

"Uh," he was touched, kind of, "Thanks for the advice."

"Sure. Someone's gotta support the bad boys of the world," the fan winked.

"I'm not a-"

"And man, if I had brothers as cute as yours, I would totally be getting up close and personal family time in-"

"Next!" he squeaked out, cutting off her lewd description and letting a younger fan push the girl aside. She didn't look pissed; just mildly amused. She even wiggled her fingers at him before she was swallowed by the rest of the pushy crowd begging for a JONAS boy's autograph.

She probably thought he was disgusted by what she was saying, and he was. Only because having 'up close and personal family time' was exactly what he _wanted _to do with Nick.

When the meet and greet was over and done with, Joe felt nothing but sweet relief. Their parents met them with hugs in a backstage tradition before they started breaking down their set. At least his parents were talking to him, Joe reasoned.

They'd turned out to be slightly more upset than he'd initially thought. Apparently the idea that his brothers were punishing him enough had sort of fallen through. The second Joe broke a plate while washing the dishes, he was grounded for like, all eternity, but hell. He didn't mind the transference. As far as he was concerned, being grounded was fine. He was probably never leaving the house for anything but gigs and school anyway.

Of course it would figure that the minute he found his breaking point, things began to turn around.

The drive through the Lincoln Tunnel past midnight was easy and quick. They got home in less than forty minutes, and basically crawled to bed. The next morning was a Saturday, which Joe elected weekly sleep in however long he fucking wanted day. He expected this Saturday to be like the past few; when he woke, his brothers would be gone and he'd be stuck figuring out what to do if Stella wasn't free. He didn't think he could stand another soap opera marathon.

Sure enough, when he woke up to a too-bright sun that morning, he was struck by the same silence that had haunted him for the better part of the month.

He'd skipped taking a shower the night before, and it felt like the concert's sweat and blood and shattered dreams were sticking to his skin like flypaper. When he turned the faucet on in the bathroom, he didn't get into the shower until the place was filled with so much steam that he could barely see his hands. It felt like disappearing.

Joe wondered if Nick was out with Penny. He didn't know how things were going with them, but they had to be good. Nick spent practically every day with her. Joe knew he was working on a new song; he heard it sometimes, late at night when Kevin had fallen asleep on the couch and Nick thought Joe was off in dreamland. He'd strum out the tune on his guitar, ever so soft, and hum. It made Joe's heart clench to think that such a beautiful tune could be about such a boring, stupid girl.

He didn't want Nick to write songs about him, but he didn't want Nick to write songs about anyone else either.

After what must have been an hour, Joe climbed out of the shower lobster red and aching. He felt like maybe it would have been better for everyone if he'd just attempted to drown himself in there, but he wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of knowing he'd lost it over this. Not even himself.

He wrapped himself in a fluffy white towel hanging low on his hips and strutted out into the cold air of their bedroom.

Stupid firehouses with their stupid drafty lofts. Winter was sneaking up with its teeth and its claws, and soon it would be time to blast the heat, expense be damned. Hey, that was one advantage of being a rockstar Joe was _allowed_ to make use of.

He was standing beside his bed, rifling through his drawers for a pair of clean boxers when he heard, "Hey."

Joe nearly dropped his towel.

Nick hadn't spoken a word to him for so very long that somehow his voice seemed foreign, even though Joe had heard it last night at the concert, and heard every morning over breakfast when he conversed with people other than Joe.

"H-hey," Joe croaked out, hating the veil of mistrust that obscured Nick's eyes from him.

"I," Nick took a deep breath, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, "I wanted to talk to you."

"I'm naked," Joe said, glancing down at his towel, and he didn't know why he was drawing attention to that fact. Maybe he didn't want to have a heart to heart when water was dripping its way down the cut of his chest, or maybe he felt uncomfortable with the way Nick was staring.

Wait, Nick was _staring_.

His little brother glanced away, "I don't care."

Okay, well. That was different.

"Um. Right," Joe sat on his bed, only realizing that it was a bad idea when his towel rode lower still. He tucked the towel more tightly together and Nick's eyes followed the motion.

"So," he prompted, when he realized that his baby brother still wasn't saying a word. God, what if he'd decided breaking the vow of silence was a bad idea? Joe felt the sudden need to babble, to fill the void, to do anything to make Nick smile and just _talk_.

"It occurred to me, at the concert last night," Nick sat beside him, and then his eyes moved, glued decidedly to Joe's bedside lamp, "That maybe the way we're treating you is bad for the band."

"Bad for the band," Joe echoed, a sinking feeling in his gut. He didn't expect forgiveness, of course, but he didn't want to be welcome back just for the sake of the fucking band. Like he wasn't even family.

"Yeah," Nick reclined back on the palms of his hands, and now he was looking at the ceiling, which was infinitely more interesting than the lamp anyway.

"Okay."

"Okay," Nick repeated, and he made to stand up, then stilled, "Except it's not really okay, is it?"

Joe might have looked up, and his eyes might have widened, but he wouldn't let himself react either of those ways. Instead he decided that the carpet was even better than the ceiling, and Nick was missing out, because at least Joe could stare at Nick's bare feet.

They probably looked like idiots; one determinedly watching the roof and the other trying to test x-ray vision on the ground.

"Nope," Joe agreed finally, after a silence he'd created. See, two could play that game.

"Joe, you really fucked up."

Wow, it sucked hearing that out of Nick's mouth. He felt like he'd been punched.

"I've been informed," he replied icily. He was arrogant, and he was prideful, and couldn't anyone understand that he had his reasons behind that one ginormous mistake?

"I'm telling you because you need to hear it," Nick continued, "I know we've been brutal with the ignoring you-"

"And the avoiding me," Joe interjected.

Nick's lips twitched in a wry smile, which Joe caught, because he let himself glance up for just a moment, because hey, Nick was _smiling, _"-and I know you've probably been hurting, but you have to understand that this was all for your own good."

His own good. Those were his new least favorite words.

"Made it easier for you spend time with Penny, at any rate," Joe remarked bitterly.

"Penny?" Nick mouthed, the word barely a whisper. Then he exploded, "God, what is your problem with her? You've been nothing but a downer since I started dating her, which is what _you_ wanted, might I remind you- and then you fucking hook up with _my_ ex girlfriend, and you still manage to make Penny out to be the bad guy? Joe, c'mon!"

"Sor-ry," Joe intoned, annoyed suddenly; at himself, at Nick, and at the stupid girl he'd set loose in Nick's life, "I just don't like her, okay?"

"No, _not okay_. If you didn't like her, you should have said so from the beginning! Jesus, Joe, I'm only dating her because _you_ told me to!"

His words gave Joe pause. Why would Nick care what Joe said? Why would he follow his big brother's instructions when he never had before? Because Nick _never_ took Joe's advice. Granted, most of Joe's suggestions surmounted to 'come on, Nicky, jumping off the roof will be _fun'_, but still. He was sure at one point or other in his life, he'd offered solid guidance, and Nick had probably ignored it.

Disgusted, Joe decided Nick was lying through his teeth, playing some sort of sick mind game, "You are so full of yourself."

Nick's face screwed into a grimace and he spat, "Yeah, well; family trait."

Ouch.

"You know what?" Nick demanded, "I thought I could talk to you, impress the seriousness of what's going on here in some way that Kevin hasn't been able to, but you are just- so, so beyond help right now."

"Nick, that's not fair."

Nick wasn't listening. Nick was walking out on him, again.

And it _wasn't_ fair, not at all. Because Joe's chest hurt, watching his brother leave like that. For a second, just a split second, Joe had entertained the idea that Nick had been- what, checking him out? Like that was even possible.

Joe fell back on his bed, trying to find stars in the whorls and patterns of the ceiling. He needed something to wish on; he couldn't take this anymore. Nick's name was branded on his heart, and it was horrifying, because Nick lived inside him before all this had happened, in the threading of his pulse, the thumpthumpthump of his blood in his veins. Nick was doubly marked inside Joe now; brother, lover.

And Joe, well he only had one mark, one word etched inside himself.

Sinner.

* * *

A/N: This drama has got to crack and soon. It's killing me, man. Please review!


	12. When Breathing's A Burden

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Twelve_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Did anyone see the video of Nick J briefly covering Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me? I must be way over my head with this Joick thing, because instead of seeing that as sweet homage to a friend's success (or trying to seduce T-Swift, which I refuse to believe he would ever do), I totally saw it as- 'oh look, he's rubbing it in her face that Joe likes him better'. I have this way of imagining things, just like that Miley slipup (which hey, brightened! You promised me fic. I is waiting so very patiently. –gives puppy dog eyes-). And yes, I know he covers The Climb too, but originally he just did You Belong With Me when I began this chapter.

* * *

Joe never thought he wouldn't know how to act around his baby brother. Having siblings was pretty much an implicit get out of jail free card- no matter whether he was at a celebrity party or just chilling in his room, he always had these two (and a half, if you counted Frankie, which Joe didn't most of the time) people he'd always be comfortable with.

Now, he had all these idiotic _feelings _and _ideas _that had driven a wedge between not only him and Kevin, but him and Nick; Nick, whom he'd spent his life doing anything and everything to make happy. He'd loved Nick from the moment his baby brother entered the world; where Kevin was ecstatic one moment and ambivalent the next, treating Nick like some kind of instrument playing cuddly animal, Joe had known, deep down that this was his brother. _His. _When they played on stage, he threw his arm around Nick's shoulder to show all those screaming girls exactly who owned him; and maybe Joe had never consciously realized that was the case until now, but it was.

But now Nick _hated_ him, and he had no idea what to do.

When he finally decided it was safe to go downstairs for breakfast, it was close to two in the afternoon. Nick was long gone, of course, probably off romancing stupid Penny with her stupid swishy hair and her stupid sparkly eyes. Then again, that's what Joe had figured his baby brother had been up to that morning, but no, apparently he'd wanted a chance to alternatively ogle and yell and Joe. So really, his guesses on what Nick spent his days doing could have been completely off; the youngest member of JONAS could have been chatting with monkeys at the zoo right that minute, for all Joe knew.

On the other hand Kevin, he mused, wasn't even worth guessing about. He was probably out doing whatever it was Kevin liked to do now that he had virtually no life.

At least, that's what Joe thought until he descended the fire pole into the kitchen in only his striped boxers and found himself face to face with a flustered Macy Misa. And unlike Nick, Joe was positive of exactly where her eyes had landed.

One would think he'd have learned to stop flouncing about his house half naked, but then again, it was _his_ house. If he couldn't maintain some level of nudity there, where else would he ever get the chance?

At least he wasn't all half cocked and raring to go, which was usually the case the few times he'd done this right after waking. That would have really traumatized poor Macy.

"Oh, hi, Joe of JONAS!" her lips quirked into an 'o' and her eyes grew wide, like a baby lemur. She squeaked, "I was just waiting for a-uh, friend."

"Hi, Macy of- er, Horace Mantis," Joe replied, amused by how obviously uncomfortable his presence was making her. Actually, he wasn't sure if it was his presence or his nakedness, but he was betting on the former. From her shifty body language he could tell; she was totally hiding something, "I was just getting cereal."

"I- um," Macy's eyes darted left and right until they landed on a Tupperware tray on the counter, "I brought cupcakes!"

"Cupcakes?" Joe echoed, trying to suppress a laugh.

"Well, yes. I mean, I was really harsh to you the other day. I realize that now," Macy worried at her lip with her teeth, finally managing to meet his eyes, "The cupcakes are an apology."

Joe walked over to the counter, peering inside the Tupperware lid. The cupcakes were topped with sugary swirls of frosting and icy looking crystallized sprinkles. They were pretty, and probably delicious, "Apology accepted."

He paused, all thoughts of intrigue fleeing, because he really wanted to know, "Macy, what made you change your mind?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but then her cheeks colored red, "K-Kevin! Hi, Kevin."

Joe glanced up to see his big brother standing- more like loitering at the bottom of the stairs. He was staring straight at Joe, hands in his pockets and head cocked to the side.

"Kev," Joe acknowledged, ninety nine percent certain that Kevin wouldn't say a word back. Despite Nick's break in the silence that morning, Kevin had yet to so much as smile in his general direction.

To his surprise, Kevin jutted out his chin and said, "Joe."

His voice wasn't exactly warm, but it was a start.

"Macy," Kevin said, his voice softening, "Still want to go see that movie?"

"Yes!" Macy yelped, her face burning brighter.

Oh.

Well, Joe had sort of seen that coming, but it was still a teensy shock. Macy and Kevin, hunh? He'd never thought either would have the balls to go on something resembling a date.

Of course when he said, "Date, hunh?" Macy and Kevin simultaneously colored rose and yelped, "No!"

So maybe he'd been right about neither of them being able to cowboy up. Still, when they left, hands brushing against each others' sides, Joe thought maybe this was just like Kevin talking to him; it was a start.

* * *

Nick came in around late afternoon, and when he first walked into their loft Joe heard the scuffle and pause of his sneakers. With big brother intuition, Joe knew Nick was deciding whether or not the bedroom was safe, and whether or not he could even fathom being around Joe. It sucked. Joe didn't want to disrupt the decision making process, so he kept his eyes glued to the television, even though he wasn't actually interested in reruns of Pimp My Ride and his eyes were beginning to hurt and his head was beginning to ache from watching like, ten hours of MTV.

Finally Nick's footsteps ventured into the room, but Joe still kept his head frozen, like if he so much as sighed Nick might bolt like Bambi.

"I was thinking about making a sandwhich," Nick said, and Joe stiffened even more, scared that maybe he was hallucinating, that staring at the lime green and sugar pink pimped out cars for so long had somehow spawned hallucinogenic side effects.

"Uh. I think we're out of bread," Joe muttered, finally, when the silence grew so big the Grand Canyon probably would have fit in it with room to spare.

"Oh. Okay. Maybe I'll just have cereal."

Joe didn't say anything to that, even though on a normal day he probably would have cracked a joke about Nick's complete lack of cooking ability.

"D'you- d'you want to keep me company?"

The words were so tentative, so fragile that Joe jumped to his feet immediately, not willing to break this sudden truce.

He followed Nick into the kitchen, watched the carefully rehearsed motions his younger brother made as he pulled a bowl from the cabinet, cereal from the pantry, and milk from the fridge. He watched Nick mix the ingredients with a spoon, watched him slump into a chair and take his first bite.

He never was one for tact, so he blurted, "Does this mean you're not pissed at me anymore?"

"No," Nick grit out between chewing, and Joe could tell that it had probably been the wrong question to ask.

"I- uh," Joe hated not being able to talk to Nick without feeling guilty, he hated feeling like a criminal, "I heard I'm old news. Some Disney star got caught getting lap dances in Texas."

"Yeah," Nick replied, and even though _he_ was the one who'd asked for company, he didn't seem too keen on Joe's presence.

"Why aren't you with Penny?"

"Penny's out," Nick replied shortly, staring at his cereal.

"Okay…So, do you want to do something?"

"Like what, Joe? What could I possibly want to do with _you_?"

Joe winced away, feeling like he shouldn't have even tried, "Geez, you really know how to wound a guy."

"I'm sorry," Nick glanced up, meeting his eyes, and there was something there Joe didn't recognize, "I don't want to fight."

"Me neither," Joe admitted.

"What do you want to do?"

"We could…uh…watch TV?" Joe finished lamely, fresh out of ideas.

"Daytime TV's crap."

"Oh. We could work on the bridge in that one song?" he ventured.

"Finished it already."

"What about the lyrics-"

"Those too," Nick replied, sullen.

"We could write a new song."

"We already have too many for the album."

Joe frowned. Since when had that ever stopped him? Nick was constantly thinking up new music, humming to himself in the hallway and scribbling lyrics across his notebooks, singing in the shower and keeping Joe awake all hours of the night with his guitar.

Come to think of it, Joe hadn't heard Nick composing anything for a while now.

"Nick- hey, Nick," Joe snapped his fingers as Nick's attention drifted back towards the milky mess in his bowl, "Look at me."

He did. Nick looked straight at him, and his eyes were cold, they were dead. Joe tried to remember the last time he'd seen Nick really smile. A week ago? Two?

He couldn't recall. And that's when Joe knew, in his blood and in his bones, that Nick- his little brother, who used to steal mom's pots and pans out of the kitchen when he was five to bang out melodies, who used to time the sirens on Joe's broken fire truck toys to sing for him, and who used to laugh when they swam in their grandmother's pool, laugh so loudly and carefree that even the birds would stop to listen- Joe knew that Nick was _wrong_. He wasn't the same, and how had he missed that? When had Nick gotten all bitter and emo, outside the watchful eye of his big brother?

"I have an idea," he said quickly, "Let's go play basketball."

"I'm not-"

Joe stood up, taking hold of Nick's arm, "I'm not taking no for an answer."

Nick didn't protest again, docilely letting Joe drag him out the back door, grabbing the ball along the way. They were lucky today; no adventurous fans were lurking on the Jonas St. Firehouse's driveway. The lone hoop tacked on the back wall was starting to rust around the rim, and the net had seen better days. They could easily afford to get a new one, but most of the time they were too busy to play basketball anyway.

Joe performed an experimental dribble, trying to catch Nick's interest.

"I'm going to kick your butt," Joe announced.

"Right," Nick replied dully. But Joe could see the tiny spark of emotion flit across his face.

His little brother was, in all actuality, a competitive asshole. Even though Nick put up a little bit of a fight, after Joe loped past him nearly three times catching nothing but net, he was easily enticed into the game. Then Joe wasn't allowed to score any points. As a brother, as a musician, and as an athlete, Nick was brutal.

They called a timeout about half an hour into their game of one on one. Nick tore off his white t-shirt and went inside to grab some water bottles.

"You're still going down," Joe called after him, "Don't run away!"

Nick snorted disappearing into the kitchen, Joe almost thought he saw a hint of a smirk tugging his lips as he vanished.

Nick returned, and they both sucked down water like it was oxygen. The game resumed, all breathing and dissipating sunlight and the squeaky rhythm of their shoes.

The next time out was called when Nick's laces came undone, and Joe watched as he bent over the side of the yard, sweaty and shirtless, tying his shoe- and damn, was his baby brother's ass always that hot?

Maybe Joe stared for a little too long, because next thing he knew Nick was giving him the oddest look, and there might have been a flicker of a grin in there, "You're dumb."

"_Thanks_ Nicholas," Joe frowned, twirling the ball in his fingers.

"No, I mean- you're _really_ dumb."

"Stop, this overwhelming show of brotherly love and support is getting me all teary eyed."

Nick rolled his eyes, refusing to meet Joe's steady, intense gaze, "You. Are not listening."

"I'm pretty sure I am," Joe tapped a finger to his ear, "I'm dumb, right."

"Right," Nick affirmed, "But you don't even know why."

"I didn't know idiocy necessarily came with a reason behind it."

"I didn't say you were an idiot, Joe. Although- you are. But anyway, I said you're dumb, and you can't figure out why, so I guess I'm going to have to tell you."

"Yeah, that might help this conversation along."

Nick finished with his laces and strode up toward him, tall and broad and solid in a way Joe hadn't expected. He poked Joe in the chest, "I've missed you."

"I've been under house arrest for like, ever," Joe responded, not really getting it.

"Sure," Nick nodded, "But even before that- we haven't done anything like this since- since summer. And I missed it. I missed you."

For a second, Nick was leaning so close that Joe would have sworn up and down that his little brother was going to kiss him. But then he snatched the basketball from Joe's hands and dodged past him toward the basket, yelling, "Psych!"

Joe wanted to run after him, stop Nick from scoring a point, but at that moment he saw a smile spreading over Nick's face in earnest.

And maybe he was a little winded from their game, or maybe he was getting out of shape, or maybe some freak storm had come and stolen all the air from his lungs. Or maybe it was that smile left Joe breathless, because he just stood and let Nick sweep past him to win the game.

* * *

A/N: Please review!


	13. Tired Of Living Inside My Mind

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Thirteen_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Okay, guys. This story is nearing its end (no worries, we have a couple more chapters left), so I'm going to try this one more time. Remember that time I made that plea for everyone to barrage the ffn dudes with requests for JONAS to have its own category? I'm doing it again. Because at this point, it's just not fair. The argument I got was that because the characters have their own names, it's like rpf. Which is an argument that makes NO SENSE because Miley Cyrus keeps her first name in Hannah Montana, and the boys of Big Time Rush keep their own names in BTR. They say because the show is titled 'JONAS' it's not the same- um, how? They've obviously never seen the show, and they're discriminating against it because, what, they think it's JB: Living The Dream? So please, please, please email the ffn dudes. Maybe if enough people barrage them with requests for a JONAS category, they'll cave.

* * *

After what Joe liked to refer to as the day Nick's-brain-was-snatched-by-aliens, also known fondly as the day-Nick-forgave-him, things felt like they were clicking back into place. Which was…okay, it was weird. Joe had gone so long with his family treating him like a social pariah that having them all be kind to him was sort of freaking him out.

And it wasn't just that. He was almost probably kind of absolutely pretty sure that Nick had been _looking_ at him, and not with his usual patented Nick Lucas why-are-you-such-an-idiot stare. These looks were almost intimate in a way that Joe was certain he was misinterpreting, because the kind of intimacy that came to mind wasn't the kind any sane, rational being like Nick would approve of.

Basically, the not-knowing was killing him. Joe was being more of a spaz then ever, half-convinced his family was patiently waiting for him to fuck up again because no way were they this benevolent, and half convinced that his little brother was watching him so intently because he was planning on knifing Joe in his sleep one night. What other reason could there be?

Stella thought he was overreacting. Then again, Stella was under the impression that Joe didn't know how to do anything other than overreact, and as his best friend since he'd been in diapers, she would know. It was obnoxious, really, how informed Stella seemed to think she was about Joe's entire life when at the moment, she didn't know anything at all.

Having an I'm-In-Love-With-My-Baby-Brother conversation wasn't at the top of Joe's list of priorities.

"Stop freaking out and just- Joe, you can't squeeze the juice box that way, it's going to-" Stella watched with a mixture of frustration and grief as another of Joe's shirts gained a large, orangey stain.

He barely even noticed that his entire arm now smelled like tropical fruit, opting to demand, "How can I not freak, Stell? Nick's been body-snatched. I don't think you understand how crucial it is that we track down the mother ship and get him back."

"Um. Okay," Stella avoided his eyes in lieu of examining her manicure, because she was pretty confident that pinning Joe with her death glare over a stupid shirt (even one she'd toiled on for days) wouldn't help the situation, "Nick's not an alien."

Joe snorted, with an expression that said he was ready to present her with evidence to the contrary, "Dude, he so is."

"I don't- really even want to know why you think that," Stella replied haltingly, because the Lucas brothers were just so fricking weird sometimes that it was better not to meddle. How half of America had fallen in love with them was completely beyond her.

Then again, she'd dated the idiot across from her for quite a few months last year, so maybe they had like, contagious pheromones or something. Maybe they were _all _aliens.

Which wasn't important. Stella shook her head, trying to think of a solution instead of letting herself be drawn in by Joe's twisted way of thinking. What _was _important was stopping Joe's imminent implosion into a void of doubt and self pity before innocent bystanders got hurt.

"Joe," she began patiently, "I thought you and Nick had worked things out. I thought you guys were good again."

"We have," he hissed, glancing around surreptitiously for eavesdroppers, because the eavesdroppers at Horace Mantis were horrible gossips, "That's why it has to be aliens."

"I don't follow."

"Nick would never just- forgive me. He has a plan, Stella. And he's going to use it to _destroy _me," Joe's voice pitched up at the end, so that he sounded like a scared little girl.

Stella rolled her eyes, and tried to concentrate on eating her sandwich, because she needed the energy for her impending history test. Confronting a panic-stricken Joe was really the last thing she needed right now, but he looked like a puppy, lost and confused.

"Why do you think that?"

"Nick always has plans!"

"True enough, but why do you think he wants to destroy you?"

"I made out with his ex," Joe scrutinized her face, checking to see if she actually forgot that whole fiasco. Maybe that meant the rest of the world would soon too. He was still getting daily messages on forums about what a total creep he was. It kind of hurt.

"Yeah, and he's over that. It's been like, months, man. You need to move on."

Joe frowned. Stella didn't realize what kind of danger he was in. Nick Lucas did not plot lightly. He was going to die, or at the very least wake up with a shaved head. He _liked_ his hair. Losing it could not be allowed to happen.

Of course, Stella also didn't know about the staring, and it wasn't like Joe could tell her. What possible advice could she give about that? She'd probably think Joe was experiencing a psychotic break, or imagining it, which he wasn't. Nick was definitely watching him funny, and he needed it to stop now.

"Oh hey, look. It's Penny," Stella pointed towards a girl marching down the hall with a pack of even more girls at her heels. Joe never understood why females like to travel in herds, "Yikes, she looks upset."

Stella was right. Penny's face glowed pink, and obvious mascara tainted tear tracks stained her cheeks.

"Wonder what that's about?"

Joe wondered too. He wondered so much that when he leaned his chair forward to get a better look, he ended up falling on the floor and banging his elbow really fucking hard.

It would have been a lot less embarrassing if Stella hadn't laughed so hard.

* * *

Joe and Nick had made plans to walk home that day. It was something they rarely did, seeing as it gave their enthusiastic fans a perfect chance to maul them in the streets, but Joe liked to think of it as a public service. Some of those girls would never get the opportunity to see him up close otherwise, so a few incidental scrapes and bruises and the risk of being stampeded were probably worth it.

Nick thought Joe's theory sprung from the fact that he had an inflated ego, but that was another story entirely.

The days were growing chillier with each passing moment, the threat of winter looming in the distance. Joe wrapped his school blazer more tightly around him to fend off the cold. Quietly, Nick untangled his scarf from his throat and passed it to Joe, "Dude. Here."

Joe pushed the offered item away, "Keep it, Nicky."

Reasonably, his little brother argued, "We can't afford for you to get sick. You're the main vocals on half our songs, and we have to record new demos soon."

"You're the main vocals on the other half," Joe replied, exasperated.

Nick was stubborn. He refused to take the stupid scarf back. Obediently, Joe wound it around his neck, warming with the effort of so much movement in his uniform.

"Hold on, let me-," Nick's footsteps crunched through dead leaves littering the sidewalk and he took the ends of the scarf from him, tying it closed around his big brother's neck.

"Uh," Joe gulped. Nick's eyes were on him again, tracing the curves of his lips and the angles of his cheekbones. It was _scary_, and kind of hot, "I- uh. Saw Penny, in the cafeteria."

Nick turned away, and Joe wasn't sure if he was disappointed or not. They resumed walking, shuffling across the sidewalk, side by side, "Oh. Really?"

"Yes really," Joe couldn't help the mocking tone that crept into his voice, because Nick was acting- shifty. Like maybe he was about to pull that knife and kill Joe right there, in the street. Or- or strangle him with the scarf. God, maybe the scarf was alien too, and it could strangle him without Nick even touching it? Joe tugged at the offending object, loosening it, "No, I'm lying about seeing your girlfriend at school, where we all go. Together."

Nick glared at him, "I'm perfectly aware that it's not weird for you to see her, _Joseph_. Which is why it's weird you're bringing it up."

"Well," Joe tilted his head back so that he could see the clouds, "She seemed kind of upset. Like she'd been crying."

His little brother shifted guiltily, "That could- maybe, be my fault?"

"Dude, you made your girlfriend cry? I'm telling mom."

"I didn't- well, I did. But- I broke up with her, okay?"

Joe's stomach sank. Oh. He really hoped he hadn't had anything to do with this. When he'd told Nick he didn't like Penny, he hadn't wanted them to break up. He'd thought about it to the point of being obsessive, but he hadn't really _wanted _it, because he never wanted Nick to be unhappy. And even if Penny was a stupid whore with great hair, seemed to make Nick happy.

"Why'd you go and do something stupid like that? I thought you _liked_ her."

"I did," Nick gave him a strange look, "But you didn't."

"So?"

"So I'm not going to date some girl my big brother hates. She's just a girl. They tell me there are plenty."

"Plenty who are willing to deal with you being a bossy, competitive perfectionist?"

Nick rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets, "You seem to be able to put up with me just fine, Joe."

"_I've _had years of practice. If you wait for a girl to get as much practice as I have, you'll be waiting-" Joe tried doing the math in his head and gave up, "A fucking long time."

"Real eloquent, that."

"Thanks. I'm serious, Nick. You shouldn't have broken up with her just because of me. It's a dumb reason. I mean, eventually I would have discovered she had at least one likable personality trait. Wait, she did have likable personality traits, right?"

"It wasn't _just_ because of you," Nick replied, but he did that eye thing where Joe could totally tell he was lying because he was looking anywhere but Joe's face, "She was- really bad at basketball."

"You made her play sports with you?" Joe made a face.

"Yeah, and when I body checked her she looked like she might've cried," Nick shrugged, like he'd never understand the female gender. Joe understood. Nick was like, a thousand pounds of solid muscle. Having all that slammed into a person could really fucking hurt.

"You body checked her?" Joe's mind was boggled. His eyes felt like they were straining to pop out of his head.

"She was blocking my shot," Nick explained.

"I- we- you-" his mouth gaped open and closed, over and over again. One of these days, he'd have to sit Nick down and have a talk with him about acceptable dates to take girls on.

Today was not going to be that day.

"Look, could we not talk about this anymore?" Nick sighed, kicking at a few leaves, "Penny and I are done. Please- don't try to fix me up again."

"Why? You get grumpy when you're single for too long," Joe objected, even though he didn't really care if Nick stayed single forever now. It wasn't like he was going to be sneaking out to bars anytime soon, not after the last fiasco. He was going to wait at least- well, until he was done being grounded, anyway.

"I won't be single for too long, hopefully," his baby brother worried at his lip, making it all red and plump so that Joe couldn't draw his eyes away, "There's someone I like."

"Really?" his interest was piqued, "Who?"

"That's- a secret," Nick responded hastily.

Joe nagged him the entire way home, but Nick Lucas was nothing if not obstinate.

* * *

A/N: This chapter was full of silliness. I'm preparing myself for the seriousness to come. When Joe is telling Stella that Nick has a plan, I wanted to write, "He has a plan, Stella. He's like the cylons. They had a plan, and look where that got Caprica City!" Then I realized no one would probably follow that geek moment but me. Please review!


	14. I Think I Might've Inhaled You

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Fourteen_

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: Uh, guys? Did anyone else get the alert for this chapter like, two days after I posted it? 'Cause I did. And I was confused. And no, I have no idea why I'm on my own alert, I think ffn did it. At least, I blame them. But it does come in useful times like these, when I want to curse them out. Then again, it could have been worse. The alert could never have been sent…Thank you to all of you who reviewed, btw. You guys are splendid readers, and I love that a lot of you actually did get the BSG joke! I feel considerably less geeky now! Ahem. Anyway. BRIGHTENED WROTE ME FIC. Based on my Miley 'you're gay' prompt a few chapters back and it was FUCKING AWESOME. I would totally put a link here if it wasn't in a private lj. So I'm giving a big shout out to Brightened for being my favorite person ever.

* * *

"Tell me."

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please tell me."

"No."

"You have to-"

"I really don't."

"C'mon, Nicky. Who do you like? Is it her?" Joe pointed at random to a girl. Who happened to be a cafeteria lady, but whatever.

Nick made a face, "Absolutely not."

"Then her?" Joe tried, gesturing to a sophomore girl with a short, swishy skirt.

"No. Give up already."

"Joe Lucas never surrenders," Joe declared, puffing out his chest and smiling broadly at his little brother, hoping it didn't give away his inner panic. Because, okay, he really had to know who Nick liked. It was a _necessity _to his mental health. He'd been thinking about it nonstop, all week.

"Yeah, well. First time for everything," Nick told him, ignoring his brother in favor of studying a history textbook.

"History is _bor-_ing," Joe tried to pull the book away, "I mean, what can you really learn from the American Revolution other than not to wear a big red coat when going up against guerillas that don't fight fair? This is important. Tell me. Who. You. Liiiike."

"You- are such a dick. Why is this so important to you?"

He couldn't very well tell Nick that it was driving him insane, but- "I'm curious. As your big brother, I think I have a right to know if you're investing your desires in like, a potential serial killer."

"We don't have serial killers at this school."

"You don't know that. The environmental peculiarities that go into creating a- hey, wait. She goes to this school?"

Nick groaned, "Yes. Yes, yes, and yes. The person I like goes to this school. Can we drop it now?"

"Nick, I'm just looking out for your welfare and-"

"Joe," Nick grabbed his wrist across the table, attempting to halt his brother's frantic arm waving, "I get it, and I'm grateful. But you have to stop. This is- I just want to keep it to myself for right now, okay?"

"Okay," Joe bit his lip, considering, "Yeah, okay."

He lasted a whole four minutes before he queried, "But- is it her?"

* * *

They had a concert in New York, marking it as the first time Joe had been into the city since the Nick's-ex-debacle. His parents kept a stern eye on him the entire time, like he might sneak off into the bathrooms and try to escape into a bar the first chance he got.

They were not wrong to do so. Joe was pretty much frantic for a means of escape, if only to be away from their overly watchful eyes. It felt like everybody was waiting for him to mess up, and Joe did try to be a crowd pleaser. Why not give them what they wanted?

It was only Nick's steady hand on his shoulder and warning to 'breathe' that got him through the show intact. They were _on_, in every sense of the word, and Joe liked to think it wasn't entirely because of the way Nick kept rubbing up against him on stage. The crowd went wild, and it was some kind of amazing. Joe felt like maybe his brothers had stardust running through their veins, because they sparkled. They were the most brilliant thing he'd ever seen. And secretly he hoped that since the shared the same blood, he's been brilliant too.

Afterwards, Nick approached their father with a tentative smile, biting his lower lip and looking reverent, "Hey. I was hoping maybe we could stick around for a little while. Check out the city?"

"No can do, Nick-a-roo. Gotta get Frankie home," their father replied, gesturing to their kid brother slumped in a plastic chair in their dressing room.

"And I've got a dat-" Kevin interjected, and then, panicked, cut himself off, "Data collecting excursion to go on."

Joe scowled at his brother as he did his nervous teehee laugh that made him sound like a complete and utter moron. He had a date with Macy and he wasn't fooling anyone. At all.

"But-" Nick tried, "You guys don't have to stay. Joe will- right?"

Now he turned his scowl on Nick, because, seriously, what was he playing at?

"He will," Nick insisted, and Joe shrugged, because it wasn't like he had anything better to do. He was still grounded. Their dad went on to say as much.

"Dad. Come on. It's not like he's going to get into trouble with me around."

Their dad raised an eyebrow, "Really, Nick? Because he did last time."

"That was different," Nick protested.

"I don't see how," their dad replied, shooting a frown toward his sons.

Nick glared at Joe, looking for him to say anything in his own defense, but frankly, Joe didn't want to. He didn't know why Nick wanted to spend the night in the city, and he kind of didn't think he deserved the freedom yet. Even if everyone else had forgiven him, Joe had yet to forgive himself.

Shockingly, it was Kevin who stepped in, who said, "Dad. Maybe it's time to trust them. Just a little bit?"

"You can even send the Big Man with us," Nick offered, although he had that look in his eye that meant he was going to try to shake their bodyguard the first chance he got. Joe wasn't used to seeing that look when they weren't on tour, trying to sneak out to the hotel pool on their own.

"Fine," their dad relented, "Go. But I swear, if I hear anything untoward-"

"We promise. We'll behave," Nick said, and Joe, who still hadn't gotten a word in this entire conversation, nodded.

Which was why he was kind of shocked when they ended up at a bar.

"This is your definition of _behaving_?" he demanded over the pounding music, edging in closer to Nick.

"I thought you'd like it," Nick explained.

"You thought I- dude. Please tell me you didn't do this all for me?"

"Maybe," Nick ducked his head, reddening, "I just wanted a night out on the town, okay? Show me what you like about these places."

The bar was classier than anything Joe had gone to before. There were long wooden tables set with candlelight and clusters of plush looking white couches behind the anteroom that held the bar. Drinks cost seventeen bucks a pop, and everything was swathed with white cloth that might have been bed sheets but didn't really invite close inspection. Women in business dress and men in sharp suits were flocked around the room, and Joe at least thanked God that they'd worn their sweaty concert clothes; the silvery vests and slacks that Stella had crafted them by hand. At least they didn't stick out like sore thumbs, screaming way, way underage.

Joe had wondered why Nick had chosen this bar, but now it was obvious. Everyone here was too old to know who they were but too young to have kids who listened to JONAS and let them know by proxy. Here, they wouldn't have to worry about camera phones or lurking paparazzi.

Not knowing what else to do, Joe submitted to his brother's request and bought them both the least fluorescent looking drinks he could find. Nick frowned at his glass, too much of a goody-two-shoes to actually take a sip until he saw Joe do so. Eyes glued to the movement of Joe's Adam's apple as he swallowed his drink, Nick took a hesitant sip of his own.

As the night wore on, one of the longest of the tables was cleared so that people could climb on top of it and dance, the room smoky with manufactured fog and women's long legs looking like skeletal trees swaying in time to the music. A lady with a violin began to play in time to pop songs, even one of theirs, which made Nick crack a smile and look slightly less tense.

"This isn't so bad," he told Joe.

"I wouldn't take you anywhere bad, Nick."

Dubiously, Nick rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah. But technically, I took you here. I'm glad I looked this place up."

"You-" Joe gave him a strange look, although it was hard to see his face through the mist. He had this idea, but it couldn't be. Could it? "Was this a date?"

"What? No!" Nick protested, but his tone was less 'sick, dude' and more, 'fuck, how did you know?' Joe felt his stomach turn fluttery, like he'd swallowed a bird or something.

"This _was _a date," he breathed, "You took me to a bar because you know I like going to them. You're trying to- fucking woo me!"

"I'm not! That would be- wrong."

Wrong. Yeah. All his excitement from a minute ago vanished and the implications he'd been fighting for months flooded back in. Joe tried to use his best big brotherly tone, "Nick, you can't do this. I'm not a girl!"

"I'd noticed, thanks."

"But- you," Joe lowered his voice, fearful, but wanting, "Then why?"

Instead of answering, Nick chugged his drink and stomped off to the bar for a new one. Joe was left watching him, wondering. Maybe even hoping.

This was a _date_. The person his baby brother liked…was him?

After that, it was nearly impossible to corner Nick. Every time Joe approached, he found away to charm some girl-not-yet-a-woman wearing stilettos and a business class skirt into talking about fuck-all. Western European economics for all Joe cared what the actual topic was. He just cared about getting Nick to talk to _him. _

Eventually, Joe realized he was Joe fucking Lucas, even if he was in a bar in New York City who had no idea at all who Joe fucking Lucas was, and he used that confidence to barrel into one of Nick's newest chats, about saving baby sea otters or some such thing that probably meant more to Kevin than either one of them.

"Hey, hi," Joe told the unsuspecting woman Nick had been talking to, smiling his brightest I'm-a-rockstar smile and pushing her out of the way, "I think that dude over there is looking for you."

"I don't know him," the woman objected, frowning in the general direction Joe had pointed at. He had no idea who she was actually looking at, but it didn't even matter, "Well he knows you. Go say hi!"

He prodded her off as nicely as possible, and when Nick turned and glared Joe said, "What? Who knows, maybe they'll have a love connection? I could be a _matchmaker_, Nick."

Nick rolled his eyes and tried to creep away, but Joe caught his wrist and said, "Not so fast, dude. We've got to talk."

"I'd really rather not."

Fortunately, Joe hadn't planned on taking 'no' for an answer. He dragged Nick into the bathrooms behind the violinist, which were pretty nice digs as far as bathrooms went. They smelled like something his mother would spray around their house. He took a precursory look around the place. Then he kicked in all the stalls to make sure they were empty and pulled Nick into the last one, at the end. The one their parents always said not to use unless it was absolutely necessary because they were meant for people in wheelchairs, not pop singers with perfectly good legs.

"Joe, stop. What are we doing in here-"

"I like you," Joe said, and it was the first time he'd let himself acknowledge it out loud.

"I-" Nick's eyes darted wildly, left, right, up, down. Like a caged animal, "I like you too, dude. You're my _brother_."

"Yeah, okay," Joe agreed, "But that's not what I mean, Nicky. I- love you. Not just as a brother. As more."

Nick stared at him with such intensity Joe felt like he might melt into the ground. His brother's eyes were magnetic, hypnotizing. He felt like there was a cord, pulling him towards Nick, making him gravitate toward the slightly taller boy until he was swaying on his feet like the dancers in the main room.

"This isn't," Nick said softly, "how I expected it to be, Joe. Things weren't supposed to end up this way."

"I know," Joe said, because he did. Because they were supposed to grow up and have normal lives with girls and wives and kids, and this wasn't looking promising for any of that.

Except it was hard to focus on caring when Nick was watching him the way he was.

"I didn't think it would happen so fast," Nick concluded, and Joe was only allowed an instant of surprise before he leaned forward, pressing his mouth to Joe's.

It was searing heat and the swipe of his tongue over Joe's lower lip that made him press forward, 'til their hips were aligned and Nick was pressed back against the wall of the stall. Their mouths moved against each other, a whisper that made his nerve endings tingle and a softness that made Joe want more, more, more. He could feel the hard lines of Nick's body beneath his flashy suit, the planes of muscle Nick had worked for over the years that shifted, rippled under his fingers. Joe kissed his little brother like he was searching for air, for the oxygen in Nick's lungs. The miracle was that Nick kissed back just as fervently, trying to devour him whole.

Nick's mouth moved to Joe's neck, fingers plucking at the buttons of his collared shirt, trying to find his way down to the skin over Joe's collarbone. He sucked and pulled until Joe knew there would be bruises, and he carded his fingers through Nick's hair, wanting to be marked. Needing a brand other than the one he'd worn for so long, than the desire he'd felt for Nick that he'd never thought would be returned. Joe yanked Nick back up by the hair, planting kisses along the ridge of his cheekbone, the bump on his nose. He licked a path down Nick's throat, favoring his veins and the pulse of blood beneath, blood they shared. Nick made a noise in the back of his throat that he'd never made once on stage and thrust forward, his hips hitting Joe at just the right angle, making him harden through the thin material of his slacks. Nick was there, hot, needy.

And then he wasn't. He wrenched himself away, meeting Joe's gaze with pupils blown wide and mumbling, "We should go home."

Joe didn't know what it meant, or if he was supposed to, and when he said 'okay', his voice sounded like a sob.

* * *

A/N: Bad place to end? Maybe? –ducks- Well, there might be more. Maybe. Possibly. Okay, I'm a terrible liar, there is. Pretty little Lucas brothers sucking face, next chapter. Please review!


	15. Would You Stay With Me Tonight?

**Suicide Doors**

_Chapter Fifteen_

By: Jondy Macmillan

* * *

They reached their quiet little firehouse early in the morning, and they had to hide out in the living room to keep from waking Kevin up. Joe didn't know what to think. He didn't know what had happened in the bar back in the city, except that he was confused. Nick kissing him- it couldn't mean what Joe thought it meant. Because Nick was a smart kid, and what they'd just done wasn't smart at all. Joe was convinced that it was his fault, somehow. That he was the one who'd fucked up.

It wasn't that big of a surprise, really. He wasn't sure anymore where the love inside of him that was good and right and brotherly ended and where the love that was twisted and dark and wrong began.

But then he wondered how love could ever possibly be wrong, and came up with no answers, again and again and again.

"What are you thinking?" Nick tugged at his hand, and that was such a chick question, something a girl would ask to try to get into a boy's head, but it was also somehow a _Nick_ question, something his little brother had asked him a million times before. He said, "Joe. _Joe_, look at me."

Joe did. Whatever Nick saw on his face, he didn't seem to like.

"What's wrong?"

"I- back at the club. I'm sorry. I didn't meant to-" his voice faltered, and he didn't know how to say what needed to be said. And Nick was like, invading his personal space. Joe was touchy-feely and overly affectionate almost all the time, but he wasn't used to having the tables turned. He was the one who set the terms and conditions of what body parts should graze against each other, who to lean so close to that they were sharing air, and he wasn't sure how he felt about Nick being all up in his territory.

"To what," Nick grated out, eyes darkening.

"I shouldn't have said- what I said. I shouldn't have forced you to. Do. That," he finished lamely, thinking of the hot press of Nick's lips against his own, and the way he'd wanted, still wanted it, couldn't stop wanting it.

"How could you even think that? You've never been able to force me to do anything I don't want to, idiot. And- how can you even think that I've ever felt anything but this. You're my brother. I love you."

Joe let out a strangled, wounded noise, because they'd had this conversation in the club bathroom, back when Nick's hips slotted ever so perfectly with his own, but obviously he hadn't been clear enough.

"I don't think we're talking about the same kind of love."

"We are," Nick said with absolute certainty, "Do you think I make a point of hooking up with Kevin, too?"

That was not a visual Joe had ever wanted.

"Um. Ew."

Nick was looking at him with this fond sort of exasperation that Joe didn't really understand, and Joe figured he was making excuses, making it somehow okay for Joe to feel forgiven, because that was what Nick liked to do. Protect him, even though it wasn't his job.

Joe blamed his mom for that. When Nick was born, she'd given him this entire lecture about the responsibility of being a big brother, while Kevin got to watch cartoons. Which at the time had been supremely unfair, but of course, he already knew all about what it took to be a big brother. As far as Joe could see back then, it involved tickle attacks and a lot of noogies.

But a few years later, when Nick was actually old enough to be bossy but still too young to have gotten a grasp on sharing, Joe heard the lecture again. Nick had broken one of Joe's newest birthday presents seconds after it was opened, and Joe may have overreacted. There was yelling.

A lot of it.

And then Nick called him the worst brother in the entire world, which lead to fuming and yelling and a little bit of crying into his pillow. When Joe emerged from his room half an hour later, finally prepared to respond gracefully and be the better man, he ended up eavesdropping instead. Nick, sitting on their mother's lap, was listening intently as she explained to him all the pitfalls and responsibilities and rewards of being a little brother, and how sometimes big brothers needed to be taken care of, too.

Ever since then, Nick had taken his responsibility really fucking seriously.

"Exactly."

"I'm not- I'm your big brother. I'm supposed to protect you, not-" he faltered again, Nick's expression tugging at something peripherally in his brain, "Not this."

"Joe, _listen_ for once. I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I didn't realize at first, what it meant, that I loved you differently from the way I'm supposed to. But ever since I figured out what it meant to love someone else, it's been _you_. Not- just as a brother."

"You don't know what you're-"

"I do," Nick interrupted, "I've never known how to love you any way but this. Waiting for you to see it has been torture. You're really, really dense."

"That long? That can't be true. I didn't notice-"

"You never saw because you weren't looking for it, Joe. It kind of set it in this summer. Notice how I didn't have some kind of minor meltdown in the public eye."

"The summer," Joe echoed, "When you started stalking me."

"I was not stalking you moron. I was trying to spend time with you. Didn't I say that I missed you?" he asked, hot and urgent in Joe's ear.

Oh. _Oh._

"But, in the bathroom, you seemed so surprised-"

"I didn't want to get off in a public restroom," Nick shifted, ears burning a little bit, "That's not- appropriate."

"Oh my god. You're such a little romantic."

Nick's cheeks began to flame. He said, "I take it back, I hate you."

"No you don't," Joe grinned, "But- I don't understand. Why did you seem so surprised when we-?"

Nick sighed, "I figured out that this whole thing wasn't hopeless a few weeks ago. I caught you looking at my butt?"

Nick raised an eyebrow, and Joe took a moment to remember what a fine sight that had been.

"I was really mad at you. Because- god, for a hundred reasons. You're irresponsible and kind of a moron and you're quite possibly the densest person I've ever met. Sometimes I think mom's not lying when she said she got me from the orphanage."

Joe grinned.

"And that thing with Penny, and with my ex-" he frowned, face darkening.

"Nick," Joe said, feeling like he needed to explain all of it away, "I'm sorry about-"

"Stop. I don't care about her," Nick said, "Not like that. Not anymore."

"Then what? What was your drama?"

"My drama? My drama is that this- This belongs to me," Nick said, and he pressed his mouth to Joe's, firm, possessive.

Nick had him crowded up against the wall, and this was insane, this was where he ate cereal and joked with his parents, and now he wasn't going to be able to walk on linoleum without thinking about the way Nick's hardness was burning through his jeans. Joe kissed him back until he couldn't breathe, and even then, he didn't want to stop. Not ever, not for anything.

When Nick finally, inevitably pulled away, he shook his head, eyes sparking, and said, "You're stupid. Really, completely, ridiculously stupid."

Joe was getting really tired of the jabs to his IQ. But shock had rendered him mute, and he didn't have any way to respond, no witty retorts. Just a fervent desire to kiss Nick, again and again and again.

Nick's mouth was open, an insolent little grin tugging at his lips, and when he saw Joe's eyes following, his tongue darted out, flicking over their contour. He said, "Come on. I want to show you something."

He tugged Joe down to their room, into the soundproof studio where there wouldn't be a chance of waking Kevin up. It felt dangerous, sneaking around with their big brother a few feet away, but Joe was still so confused. So happy and lost and a little bit scared that he couldn't be bothered worrying about that.

Nick sat down in front of one of the keyboards set up in the room and began to play. It was the song, the one that Joe had heard him work at right after the tabloid scandal broke. The one he thought was about Penny. Nick hadn't been playing anything else for like, a week and a half, and then, Joe realized, he'd stopped playing anything at all.

He paused in the middle of it, in the place Joe had never heard him go past. He said, "When the first tabloid broke, the one calling you bi, it hurt. I wondered why you wouldn't go for me if you did like guys. And then you started fooling around with my ex, a girl who rejected me, and that hurt too."

Joe felt guilt weigh heavy on my shoulders.

"I broke up with Penny for you. Because you didn't seem to like her, and that made me mad, because you didn't even seem to care about me enough. It made writing impossible. I wrote this for you. It's like a love song but something else, something I couldn't quite pin down. It left me more and more when I thought you were being cruel."

"Nick, I-"

Nick held up a hand and said, "You're stupid."

"You know, I think we've had this conversation before."

"I get it now. Why you did all those things. And I've got the end of the song," he laughed out, delighted, but he didn't bother playing it. He stood up, bounded over to Joe, and grinned.

Nick loved inspiration.

One time, Joe heard him say it was like, a line tugging at the end of his spine, sending electricity all the way to his fingers, so that no matter what he was doing, he kept getting these little rushes of adrenaline. He sat straighter, he wrote faster, and his ideas clicked just right. As far as Joe knew, it was very possibly his favorite feeling in the world, more than love, more than exhilaration, more than anything.

Except now he was staring at Joe with shining eyes, like his favorite feeling in the world was simply this; standing alone in a room with his brother, gazes locked, the only music the sound of their breath.

Joe's heart was bleeding feelings, tangible thoughts that were color and light and sound, and Joe could see all of it in his eyes. And Joe felt the same way, overflowing, his chest too full to contain the things he wanted to say, the things he wanted to shout at the top of his lungs.

The closest thing he could think to compare it to was singing, the way, when he stood on stage his voice tangled with Nick's to create something new, something that had never been heard before, that would never exist without the two of them, pulses hammering, lungs exposed for the whole world to see.

"You know this isn't going to be easy," Joe had to say, felt like he couldn't not say.

"Nothing worth it ever is."

"You are such a walking cliché," Joe accused.

Nick rolled his eyes, "I get it from my corny brother."

"Okay," Joe said, and kissed him, breathing into his mouth, "Okay."

And it wasn't like Joe had given up on that car with suicide doors. He knew that there were sure to be times in the future where he'd sneak off into the neon-like glow of the city and indulge in a drink or two or ten. He was going to live his rockstar life…but now he was guaranteed to have Nick holding his hand. Every step of the way.

"So are we like boyfriends now? Boyfriends, brothers, secret lovers…I don't know Nick, that sounds like a lot of titles," Joe teased later, leaning into Nick's side, and damn, when had his baby brother gotten taller than him?

"How about just one?" Nick countered, grinning, leaning back, "Mine."

He didn't have to give up one way of life for the other. He could do both, and eventually, he could probably even settle for doing just one. Because being loved by Nick, yeah.

That made him feel like a rockstar.

"I could live with that."

* * *

A/N: The End. I know it took me like half a year to update this, and that is mostly because I'm terrible with endings. I always have nervous meltdowns about posting them and agh. I hope you guys enjoyed this, and I want to apologize for the mistakes in this story. The most notable ones that don't involve grammar or spelling being the bits where I say that Joe and Stella never dated and then later state they do (the show was still running and I was obviously confusing my meta there), and then where Joe says he hasn't been to New York since the part but actually had been, for the concert scene. I apologize- I might go back and fix that; it's just such a pain to reload each individual document and switch it out and- I wish ffn had something where you could directly edit the chapter. That would be amazing. So let's pretend that LA never happened, and when Stella mentions them dating, she means that she wanted to date him, and ummm that the first concert was actually upstate NY and not the city.

As a side note, I don't know if I mentioned it, but all the bars in this story are based on real places. The first, I think, was Wicked Willy's in the village, and then Off The Wagon. The last was Nikki Beach.

Chapter titles are from these songs: Beautiful Colors by Kill Paradise, 4ever by The Veronicas, The Truth Is, You Should Lie With Me by Say Anything, Blue And Yellow by The Used, The Takers by Barcelona, 1901 by Phoenix, Blinding by Florence and the Machine, Boats And Birds by Gregory and the Hawk, What New York Used To Be by The Kills, Baptized By Fire by Spinnerette, My Next Mistake by Styrofoam ft. Jim Atkins, Wonder by Megan Mccauly, Faith Hope Love by Starsailor, Bloodstream by Stateless, and Littlething by Jimmy Eat World.

Please review and let me know what you think!


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